Draco Malfoy's Point of View Chamber of Secrets
by VMorticia
Summary: Like the title says - this is part two of Draco's point of view on the events in the Harry Potter books. Has been edited in light of new information from Order of the Phoenix, but there's no real spoilers yet ... just edited ch3, to change Ginny's name.
1. We All Wear A Mask

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's.  
  
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar. Apparently elves aren't allowed to pick up clothes, either ... according to OotP ... so I edited that bit out of here.  
  
I have taken several of my ideas for this part of the series from the CoS movie - things that are seen in the movie, but neither mentioned nor denied in the real books, have found their way into this. I'd not have gotten this far without watching the CoS movie, because it gave me the will to keep writing this series, after its long break in PS.  
  
Chapter 1 - We All Wear A Mask  
  
I just got home for the summer holidays and Father has already found something wrong. I was the top boy in my year but I was second to Hermione Granger. "A Mudblood! You were beaten by a Mudblood! I am ashamed of you, Draco. How did you manage to come second to such an inferior being?!"  
  
"It's not my fault, Father." I said, as quietly as I could get away with and still be heard, "I got over a hundred percent on all but my Transfiguration and McGonagall hates me."  
  
"But still, a Mudblood gets better grades than you!" he yelled. It's just not something I'm going to be able to talk my way out of, is it? "You are a disgrace!" he snarled, "If I ever hear of anything like this again, you will be sorry! Think yourself lucky I've got better things to be doing, right now! Get out of my sight, you pathetic excuse for a Malfoy!"  
  
I was not going to argue with that. Getting dismissed from his study without punishment, for something like THAT, was really a VERY lucky break. I ran all the way back to my room, locked the door and landed on the bed. I was thinking about how that happened - how Hermione had gotten higher grades than I had. She had an average of one hundred and ten percent, overall. I had an average of ninety-eight, after you count the terrible Transfiguration score that McGonagall gave me. I thought that was a damned good average. Of course, before he found out that Hermione had beaten me, he had asked, "What happened to the other two percent?" ... still, it was almost the highest grade in the class.  
  
I guess I could always bribe teachers - Snape would probably be willing to help me with that. And I could also try to bribe Hermione to throw a few questions on her next set of exams, but I really don't think that she'd ever do that - she's too devoted to her education.  
  
I did wonder why Father was in such a foul mood, though. He usually keeps his temper and punishes me emotionlessly, with the Cruciatus. He never loses it like that. And I've never gotten away without a punishment, for something like that.  
  
I heard a noise and looked up to see the elf starting to dust the shelves in my room. Stupid creature - a good house elf is never seen, never heard and always gets its work done. This elf is incompetent.  
  
"Hey. Elf." I snapped, sitting up.  
  
"Oh!" the elf jumped - it obviously hadn't realised that I was in the room. "Dobby is sorry, Master Draco. Dobby did not know Master Draco was in his room, sir. Dobby thought he was downstairs."  
  
"Yeah, yeah." I hate the way those damned creatures talk in the third person - it drives me up the wall. "How about you spill the dirt on why Father's in such a rotten mood, hmm?" I asked, grinning.  
  
"Master Draco knows Dobby is bound not to tell Master Lucius' business, sir." Dobby squeaked.  
  
"Aww, c'mon. You've told me the gossip of the Manor before. I wanna know." I whined, doing my best spoilt-rich-kid act.  
  
Dobby looked around nervously, "Master Lucius will not be knowing Dobby is telling Master Draco this, yes?"  
  
"Of course." I promised. I've never told on the elf yet. He's too useful as a source of information.  
  
"Master Lucius is upset, very much upset, by the events at Hogwarts School last month, sir. He is wishing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned, sir." Dobby said, twitching nervously, "Master Lucius blames himself, sir. A girl was sent to fetch Headmaster Dumbledore, and Master Lucius brought her to him. Had Headmaster Dumbledore been even minutes later, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would have been victorious, sir. Master Lucius is ashamed for his mistake, sir."  
  
I stared, "You mean he WANTS Snake-For-Brains to return?" I asked sceptically.  
  
"Master Lucius is wanting the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, very much, sir." Dobby said nervously.  
  
"The lying git!" I yelled, knowing no one would hear me outside my room if I didn't want them to. I threw the nearest object (my enchanted alarm clock) across the room, violently. It bounced but didn't break. I then lowered my voice to the dangerous tone that tells the listener I'm pissed off, "He's always told me that he only joined Them because They threatened Mother. I thought he was better than that ... I thought he had more sense than that!" Dobby backed away fearfully, probably thinking I might take my temper-tantrum out on him ... that's what Father would do if Dobby got in the way of one of his bad moods. "Elf!" I snapped, suddenly thinking of something, "He said he had 'better things to be doing' ... what's he working on at the moment?" I asked.  
  
Dobby squeaked but still told me, "Master Lucius is writing, very much now, sir. Never leaves the book down in case it gets misplaced." Dobby said, "Master Lucius is only ever leaving it in his study, sir. The book is telling him to do things, Master Draco, bad things - terrible things."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Dobby does not know, sir. Dobby only knows that Master Lucius is almost possessed, sir." the elf replied.  
  
"Elf, I don't care what rules you break, I will let you off from any punishments for what I am about to ask you to do. Get me that book. I want to see it. Tonight, after Father is asleep. You understand?"  
  
Dobby nodded enthusiastically ... probably eager at being excused from punishment.  
  
* * *  
  
That evening I heard the familiar cracking sound of the elf appearing in my room. I still had the door locked and all the sound blocked, so no one could hear what I might be up to.  
  
"Dobby has the book for Master Draco, sir." and he handed it to me.  
  
"Good. Now wait here - I want you to take this back when I'm done." and with that said, I opened the book to the first page ... blank. Second page ... nothing. Third page ... nada. I flicked quickly through the whole book, finding not one trace of ink. Something in the back of my mind told me there really ought to be some ink on these pages ... how about putting some there? I knew this was a bad idea, because I shouldn't mess up my father's things ... but still. I took up a quill and wrote.  
  
//Hello.//  
  
It faded into the page, disappearing completely. I checked the inkbottle. It wasn't disappearing ink. I looked back to the page to find the word //Hello.// in someone else's handwriting. After a moment, it faded, too.  
  
Now I was intrigued. I wrote again, //My name is Draco Malfoy.// I considered adding 'who the hell are you', but decided it wouldn't be polite.  
  
Again, my writing disappeared and was replaced by someone else's, //My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. Are you related to Lucius Malfoy?//  
  
I growled. People always ask me that. I wrote back, //Yes. He is my father.// even though I knew I'd probably get in trouble for it - if Father ever knew that I had been writing to his evil enchanted diary, gods know what might happen.  
  
//I assume you have his permission to write in this diary?// Tom asked. Meep. That was just what I didn't want to be asked - I froze, unsure what to do. After a few minutes Tom wrote again, //I'll take that as a 'no'.// Another few minutes later, //Draco? Are you still there?//  
  
I finally wrote back, //You won't tell him, will you?//  
  
//I don't see any reason to tell him. But tell me - why are you here?//  
  
//Why don't you tell me why YOU are here, first?// I asked cautiously.  
  
//I will be leaving shortly. Near the end of the summer, your father will be giving this diary to someone else. I am not quite sure who, yet, but I will fulfil my purpose with their help.//  
  
//What purpose?// I asked, wondering just how much information I'd be able to get out of the diary before it realised my curiosity was malevolent.  
  
//I will not tell my purpose to just anyone. I sincerely doubt that Lucius would give me to you ... he values you too much for that, even if you would be better equipped to fulfil my needs.//  
  
//What do you mean?// I was getting confused, now. I definitely got a bad feeling from this book. My instincts told me to burn it now but it had some power that seemed to make me want to keep writing to it.  
  
//I will be going to Hogwarts. I plan to finish the work I started there fifty years ago.// the writing seemed less tidy, as if the diary was getting a bit more enthusiastic about what it was writing //I will open the Chamber of Secrets and release the monster within to exterminate the Mudbloods that are unworthy to learn magic. I also plan to murder Harry Potter while I am at it. Lucius tells me that he is a threat which is best eliminated.// Harry Potter? Father wanted to kill off Harry Potter? Well, I admit I don't like the boy but killing him is a bit much ... and then there's the Muggle-borns to consider, too.  
  
I stared at these words for a minute, before asking, //You know, if you do that, they'll close the whole school?//  
  
//At least there will be no Mudbloods learning magic there.// it answered.  
  
//What sort of monster is it? I go to Hogwarts and I don't want to get eaten.// I wrote, my desire to burn this specific book growing quickly.  
  
//The very symbol of Slytherin's house, itself.// was all the answer it gave. I scowled - a snake wasn't classified as a monster, not even a boa constrictor - so that means it's something else that looks like a snake.  
  
//Are you going to elaborate on that?// I asked.  
  
//No. You already know too much. Trust me, I will not let my pet hurt any pureblood ... unless it's a Squib. You're not a Squib, are you?//  
  
//I am seriously considering being offended by that remark.// I wrote, then after some consideration added, //And if you make that suggestion again, I will have to damage you ... I know a good flame-thrower hex.//  
  
//I will take that as a 'no', as well, then.// the diary answered calmly.  
  
I glared at the annoying book. I didn't like it. It was evil. It had some dark powers that even I was afraid of. It reminded me of stories my father had told me ... it reminded me of Voldemort. Just thinking of the connection (and the name) scared me. I dropped the quill back down and slammed the book.  
  
"Elf - put it back. I know all I need to." I threw the book at the elf, who caught it and disappeared.  
  
I wandered over to my bookshelf, and among all the Dark Arts manuals I found my school copy of Fantastic Beasts. I flicked through it, looking for anything that looked like the Slytherin Serpent. I stopped on the 'B's ... Basilisk ... a giant serpent that could kill you by making eye contact or by venom, and it was large enough to eat a human whole ... pretty deadly, really. I guessed this was what Tom had been talking about. And speaking of Tom ... something about his name had bothered me. I wrote the name out in full, on a random scrap of parchment, and stared at it. I knew there was something ... I started shuffling the letters - Father had taught me that anagrams are often a good way to find out about someone - it's a sort of Muggle-originated Divination technique (I still don't know why he believes in it, if it's Muggle in origin).  
  
T O M M A R V O L O R I D D L E  
  
I A M L O R D V O L D E M O R T  
  
Damn. O.K. - that answers that. Either Tom Riddle was Lord Snake-Lover, or he was gonna be just as bad. Maybe both. And there's another implication - the Chamber of Secrets was left for Salazar Slytherin's heir to find (any Slytherin knows that), so that means Lord Snake-Shit was Slytherin's heir ... makes sense, actually.  
  
And Lord Low-Life was going back to Hogwarts to wipe out Muggle-borns. That wasn't exactly what I would call a good thing ... not by a long shot. And much as I hate Potter, I don't want him getting killed by the evil diary's pet snake, either.  
  
"Elf?" I asked, hoping Dobby was listening - he's supposed to appear as soon as he's called. Fifteen seconds later he did appear.  
  
"Master Draco called Dobby?" he asked.  
  
"Yes he did - I mean - yes I did. I've got a job for you. You have heard of Harry Potter, yes?" Dobby nodded very enthusiastically, "Well I want you to find where he lives and do whatever it takes to stop him from going back to Hogwarts. If he asks why, tell him terrible things will happen and it's not safe. Understood?"  
  
"Yes, Master Draco." Dobby said, nodded even more vigorously.  
  
"And don't tell him who sent you."  
  
"Yes, Master Draco. Right away, Master Draco." and with that, Dobby was gone.  
  
* * *  
  
I managed to get my father to tell me some of the less relevant details about the kill-all-Mudbloods-and-Potter-while-we're-at-it plan. He didn't tell me that bit, though. He told me that there would be attacks on Muggle-borns and that it was the fulfilment of Salazar Slytherin's noble work. He also noted that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened before, fifty years ago. By simple logic, I assume that means Fork-Tongued-Evil-Git was the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets last time. Meep. Why did Father have to do this? I mean, it's all well and good practicing Dark Magic, and mutilating the odd cute furry animal for fun ... but a Mudblood-Massacre was a bit too much, in my opinion.  
  
I realised something, now - I had finally seen through Father's mask. I'd always known that he'd been hiding his Dark side under a mask of publicly acceptable behaviour ... but he was darker than I'd ever thought. He's truly homicidal. He thinks Muggles and Mudbloods should all be wiped out. That is overkill ... literally.  
  
So what if Mudbloods are inferior? It's not like They wanted to wipe out rats, or Puffskeins, but both are inferior to us, so why kill off Mudbloods? Without a lower class, who else have we to lord it over?  
  
Stupid, really. But I can't argue, if I value life and limb ... and possibly my soul. I've heard that They used to use Dementor-Kisses as punishment on a semi-regular basis, when He was in power. That's not something I want to think about, though.  
  
So I hid my opinions and wore my own mask. I concealed my revulsion for what Father was planning under a veil of morbid interest. I buried my morals deep down where Father couldn't find them, and hoped he'd not realise I was lying when I said I thought it was a brilliant plan. I am not exactly a nice person but I don't want to turn out the same as my father.  
  
* * *  
  
End of chapter 1 


	2. Holidays? What Holidays?

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's.  
  
The Tardis Charm came from Slytherin Rising, but was originally pilfered from Dr Who's T.A.R.D.I.S. - I don't claim it, at all.  
  
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar.  
  
Chapter 2 - Holidays? What Holidays?  
  
I re-read the letter I had received that morning, again, still not believing it.  
  
'Fellow Slytherin,  
  
Since you are now in your second year,  
  
you are now old enough to try out for the  
  
house Quidditch team.  
  
This year, in order to be ready in time  
  
for the start of the school year, I will  
  
be holding try-outs at the Quidditch field  
  
near my home. If you wish to have a hope  
  
in Hell of getting a position on the team,  
  
this year, be at Silver Grove Quidditch  
  
Pitch, at 7am this Friday.  
  
No latecomers will be allowed to try out.  
  
BYOB.  
  
Marcus Flint, team captain.'  
  
Seven in the bloody morning, and Friday was the next day ... and I didn't have a good broom yet. I mean ... a Comet 260 isn't bad, but I've had it for years and all the house team's brooms are way better than it. Still, it was better than what some of the other teams had.  
  
I made a point of getting to the appointed meeting place early so as not to give Flint any excuses to keep me out this year. Flint and the rest of last year's Quidditch team were already there, as were a few other students who looked nervous and jumpy.  
  
I joined the other would-be team-members. The team's Keeper and one Chaser had both graduated last year, and the try-outs seemed to be only for these free spaces. Flint seemed adamant that none of the existing team would be replaced. I flew Seeker against Higgs and two others, and I won ... but Flint wouldn't let me join the team.  
  
So, back at the Manor I was yelled at for not getting on the team. Father was still on-edge and didn't listen to my explanations. Either Flint had a grudge against me or he was just a stupid, stubborn git. I'd say both.  
  
* * *  
  
A few weeks before school was due to start, Father decided to make an unscheduled trip into Diagon Alley.  
  
"Why are we going today, Father?" I asked, as I followed him out of the Leaky Cauldron and into the crowded magical street.  
  
"I have a few important matters to attend to. I will also be buying you a new broom."  
  
"But -" I started to protest that I couldn't make use of a new broom if I wasn't on the house team, but he didn't let me finish.  
  
"First we will have to go to Borgin and Burkes," he said quietly to me, before turning sharply into the darkened side street that few civilised wizards use.  
  
I followed him down Knockturn Alley and started to walk ahead, I knew exactly where I was going. I entered Borgin and Burkes, followed by Father who made a beeline for the counter and rang the bell to get some service. I'd been here once or twice and knew well enough that I shouldn't touch anything on display.  
  
I reached up to see if the glass eye would watch my hand but Father snapped at me, "Touch nothing, Draco." I wasn't going to touch it ... just looking. How stupid did he think I was?  
  
"I thought you were going to buy me a present?" I asked, hoping he might decide to get me something from here, instead of a broom that I'd never be able to put to good use thanks to Flint. I was looking at a small crystal pendant that said it was cursed to kill, by 'bad luck', any Muggle or Mudblood that wore it (yes, I still think of Muggle-borns by that word. Honestly, the main reason I use it is because it's a shorter word).  
  
"I said I would buy you a racing broom." Father growled impatiently.  
  
"What's the good of that if I'm not on the house team?" I asked, staring at the pendant and wondering who I might use it on if I had it, "Harry Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year." his mother was a Mudblood - maybe the pendant would work on him, "Special permission from Dumbledore so he could play for Gryffindor. He's not even that good, it's just because he's famous ... famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead..." I continued to look around the shop. I really didn't like some of the things they sold here (most of it was cool, but some was horrible) - there were human body-parts, in various states of decay ... or preserved. A whole shelf full of human skulls - that's creepy. "... everyone thinks he's so smart, wonderful Potter with his scar and his broomstick -"  
  
"You have told me this at least a dozen times, already." Father snapped. If someone didn't appear to deal with him, soon, I might want to make myself scarce, again. On the rare occasions that he loses his self-control, his temper is unbelievable, and it was now being tested. "And I would remind you that it is not - prudent - to appear less than fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regard him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear -" and then Borgin appeared. "Ah, Mr Borgin."  
  
"Mr Malfoy. What a pleasure to see you again. Delighted - and young Master Malfoy, too - charmed." I gave him a smile that looked every bit as fake as his voice sounded, "How may I be of assistance? I must show you, just in today, and very reasonably priced -"  
  
"I'm not buying today, Mr Borgin, but selling." Father said, his polite voice almost as easy to recognise as fake as Borgin's.  
  
"Selling?"  
  
"You heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids. I have a few - ah - items at home that might embarrass me, if the Ministry were to call..." No duh. The collection in our dungeon is fairly dangerous, even to proper wizards, if it were misused. And that's nothing on what's under the drawing room.  
  
"The Ministry wouldn't presume to trouble you, sir, surely?" Borgin asked in an obvious ass-licking voice.  
  
"I have not been visited, yet. The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect -" from ignorant bureaucrats and those who agree with Father's opinion of Muggles and Mudbloods. Even I am losing respect for him ... our family may always have been Masters in the use of Dark Arts, and we have always considered ourselves better than Mudbloods (even I still hold that opinion - and there's always an exception to the rule - namely Hermione), but my Father was the only Malfoy who would ever have joined Lord Weirdo in attempted genocide. "- yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumours about a new Muggle-Protection Act - no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggle-loving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it, and as you see, certain of these poisons might make it appear -"  
  
Meanwhile, I had browsed half the shop, while eavesdropping on Father's business conversation. I had just gotten to a shelf full of bewitched mummified body-parts, now.  
  
"I understand, sir, of course. Let me see..." Borgin muttered.  
  
I had spotted something that looked like a human hand ... I read the label and asked, "Can I have that?" well, it looked like a useful thing to have, by the description.  
  
"Ah, the Hand of Glory! Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder!" Borgin enthused, hoping for a sale. Yes - I HAD read the label - I had figured that out, already. "Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir." Yeah, and it'd also be useful for spying ... getting around Hogwarts in the dead of night ... and yes, I might find a reason for stealing things, too.  
  
"I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin." Father growled.  
  
"No offence, sir, no offence meant -" Borgin said immediately.  
  
But Father interrupted, with an acid tone that could cut through steel, "Though if his school marks don't pick up, that may indeed be all he is fit for."  
  
"It's not my fault." I complained, for the umpteenth time, "The teachers all have favourites, that Hermione Granger -" I was lucky I thought quickly, there - I had started to say her first name, and realised in time to make it sound like I was just saying her full name. Whew. I mean if I'd just said 'Hermione', I'd be in really deep trouble.  
  
Father interrupted my complaint, with the same line he's been using all summer, "I would have thought you'd be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam." I squirmed, trying not to look as embarrassed as I felt - I didn't like to be made an idiot of in public ... by anyone, not even my father.  
  
I just stopped myself from jumping, as I heard something that definitely was not either Borgin or my father. Something behind me. I stopped listening to the conversation, instead trying to listen for another sound. I moved slowly round the room - the things you can buy in this shop, I doubt whatever it was could surprise me, but I didn't want to scare it off. It sounded like it came from the cabinet. I moved closer, but stopped, my attention drawn by some more cursed jewellery - I don't know why, but I like the idea of giving someone something that looks so pretty and innocent, as a way to dispose of them. Still, it only seemed to be cursed to work on Muggles, so not so good. I continued around the room, and was just about to get to the cabinet when Father called me away. He had finished bargaining with Borgin and was heading for the door. I gave the cabinet one last suspicious glance, before following Father outside.  
  
I stopped outside the last shop before Diagon, to look at the selection of illegal creatures' eggs. Dragon-eggs, Runespoor-eggs, Acromantula-eggs. It's amazing how many of these you can get, considering how strict the import-export laws are. I always wanted a Runespoor but Father said I couldn't get one until I'd learned to deal with the normal snake I got for my seventh birthday.  
  
"Draco! Don't dawdle!" Father snapped, "We have things to do." I sighed and left the display to itself. Father led me into Flourish and Blotts, which proclaimed that it was hosting a book signing, starring Gilderoy Lockhart, today. Why did we have to be here when the place is overflowing with middle-aged, star-struck, gullible women, who think that writer wrote so much as one true word? "You can get your school books while we're here. Go." he said, indicating that I should get out of his way while he does whatever he was up to.  
  
I climbed the staircase to the upper level, where the Standard Book of Spells series is kept along with several other standard educational titles. Of course, Lockhart's books wouldn't be found with the normal school books, but I didn't care. We have a fiction section in the Library at our Manor and no one would notice if those six books went missing from it. I got my textbook and looked down at the crowd of women who were there to see the king-of-fraud. It was pathetic.  
  
I spotted a small sea of red hair in the middle of the line and guessed that that would be Weasleys. And I was just in time to see Potter being dragged up to get his picture taken with Lockhart. I actually think he was embarrassed - Potter, I mean - he looked like he didn't want to be there. Is it possible, could Potter not like the attention? Well that just makes it worse, now doesn't it? I, a self-confessed attention-seeker, am overlooked in favour of someone who doesn't even want to get noticed. That is so unfair.  
  
I continued to observe from my vantage point above the crowd, and the worst was yet to come. Gilderoy bloody Lockhart is going to be teaching DADA, this year! I doubt he'd be able to tell the difference between a werewolf and a vampire without looking it up in one of his fraudulent books. I shook my head in bemusement - incompetence seems to be a required trait for DADA teachers - and decided to bring my own books for that class - I'd teach myself Dark Arts, without the defence ... and Lockhart could go and do something obscene with a yeti, for all I care.  
  
I picked up a nearby copy of 'Deadly Monsters and How To Avoid Them' from the selection of official DADA textbooks and flicked through it. I stopped when I got to the Basilisk, remembering what I'd read in Fantastic Beasts and deciding this was a more detailed explanation of the creature.  
  
I glanced around, checking no one was watching me, and ripped the relevant page from the book. I was mildly surprised to see the page grow back but realised that real DADA textbooks usually have re-growing pages in case of accidents in practical classes. And then looked down to see that Potter had escaped the publicity-o-holic and was making his way towards the assemblage of Weasleys.  
  
I put the page in my pocket to read in detail later and wandered down the stairs just in time to come face-to-face with my rival. Time to see how much I can annoy him, today, "Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" I asked, trying not to be sarcastic enough for a Gryffindor to notice. He looked up from the cauldron full of books he'd just donated to the Weasleys' youngest (well youngest that I'm aware of - there may be more), and glared at me. "Famous Harry Potter. Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page." I sneered, hoping I sounded like it was just spite and didn't betray my jealously.  
  
"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!" the little Weasley-girl said to me, giving me a look that had to be intended to be scary - in my opinion, I thought it made her look cute.  
  
"Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend." I taunted. Weaslette's face went bright red, to clash with her hair.  
  
Weasley-the-sidekick and Hermione appeared from the crowd, to stand near Potter and his girlfriend. "Oh, it's you." Weasley snarled, on seeing me. "Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, eh?"  
  
I had no idea what he meant but he was right. I would have to threaten Dobby with a good flaying, when I got home. "Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley. I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month, to pay for that lot." I commented, idly wondering if I really was kidding or if I'd hit close to the truth. Weasley tried to go for me but Potter and Hermione held him back.  
  
Just then, three more Weasleys (the evil-twins and their father) emerged from the throng of love-struck Lockhart fans. Mr Weasley then said, "Ron, what are you doing? It's mad in here, let's go outside."  
  
I was considering commenting but was saved the trouble when Father's voice spoke from behind me, "Well, well, well - Arthur Weasley." His tone was also taunting but he managed to sound more ominous than I could ever manage. As he placed a restraining hand on my shoulder, I smirked viciously in a way that says 'I've got back-up and I'm a smug git'. Well, I am a smug git - have I ever denied it?  
  
"Lucius." Mr Weasley said, nodding curtly, as if he thought that that much acknowledgement was too much trouble to go to for us.  
  
"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear. All those raids ... I hope they're paying you overtime?" Father taunted. He then snatched one of Weaslette's second-hand books from the cauldron and proceeded to examine it with a suitable degree of distain. "Obviously not. Dear me, what's the point of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?" I stepped aside, not wanting to get in the way and wanting a better view. As I did so, I saw Father open the pathetic excuse for a book in the process of what looked (from the Weasleys' angle) like he was still examining it. I saw it from the side and noticed the small black leather-bound book, which I had 'spoken' to at the start of the holidays, slip out from Father's sleeve and in between the pages of the innocent Transfiguration book. The textbook was tilted at such an angle that no one else could have seen it. Snapping the book shut, the whole process took mere seconds. Slight of hand was one way to put it, but it doesn't do him justice.  
  
Mr Weasley was looking redder than his offspring - I'm not sure if that was embarrassment or anger ... it could have been both. "We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy." he responded, sounding like he was trying to keep his temper in check. I kind of think they're both disgraces, to opposite extremes.  
  
"Clearly." Father sneered, looking past the Weasleys to a pair of confused-looking adults, who could only be Muggles. "The company you keep, Weasley ... and I thought your family could sink no lower -" he didn't get to finish whatever he was going to say, because Mr Weasley had lunged at him. I was torn between watching the fight and trying to figure out who those two Muggles were and why they were here ... watching the fight won, by a long shot.  
  
Various Weasleys yelled both encouragements and disapproval to their father/husband (depending on which Weasley you're talking about). I kind of enjoyed the show, hoping for a good, long, unfair fight, but it was cut short by the Hogwarts gamekeeper grabbing both men by the scruff of the neck and pulling them apart.  
  
Father all-but threw Weaslette's book back at her, "Here, girl - take your book - it's the best your father can give you." in spite of the beginnings of a black-eye, Father still managed to give the impression of one who had just done a particularly malicious deed, and gotten away with it, scot-free. Well, he had, hadn't he? He removed himself from the gamekeeper's gasp, beckoned for me to follow him and departed without a second glance.  
  
I gave Weaslette a calculating look, before following my father out of the shop.  
  
* * *  
  
We collected all of my school supplies before going to Quality Quidditch supplies. It was our last stop. On entering the shop, I made straight for the display of the latest broom - it still showed a Nimbus 2000, at which I proceeded to stare ... I had to make a conscious effort not to drool.  
  
Meanwhile, Father approached the assistant, "Have you received the order I placed, yet?" he asked. Now that was cryptic - it had attracted my attention and I was now only pretending to be staring at the Nimbus, while I listened.  
  
"Yes, Mr Malfoy, sir." the assistant, whose name I don't know, answered enthusiastically, "It just arrived last night."  
  
"Good, I'll take it now, then." Father said, as he took out a very large moneybag from a pocket that couldn't have contained it without a Tardis Charm.  
  
The assistant fell over himself in his haste to get to the back room. Moments later, he returned carrying a large, non-descript box.  
  
Father handed the moneybag over, "That should be the amount we agreed on," he said, taking the box and peering inside. I couldn't see into it from where I was, but it must have been what Father had ordered, because he nodded, smiling, "This appears to be in order." and with that he dragged me out of the shop, and away from the racing broom I was sure he'd promised to buy me.  
  
* * *  
  
End of chapter 2 


	3. Bribery Is A Malfoy's Best Friend

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's.  
  
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar, but Luna Lovegood nows exists in this fanfic!!  
  
Chapter 3 - Bribery Is A Malfoy's Best Friend  
  
I sulked for most of the remains of the holidays. Father had PROMISED he'd get me a racing broom, so where was it? And what was in that box he bought from Quality Quidditch Supplies? It was definitely the wrong shape to be a broom - too big and more squareish. I couldn't think of a single Quidditch-related product that would require a box like that.  
  
Then I happened to be passing Father's study door, on the last night before school. I heard voices, and stopped to listen (as any self-respecting Slytherin would do).  
  
"So, Mr Malfoy, you wanted to talk to me?" I recognised that as Marcus Flint's voice. Why the Hell would Father be talking to Marcus Flint?  
  
"Yes, Flint." Father said shortly, "I hear that you held Quidditch try-outs earlier this month. I was wondering how well my son performed - obviously he failed to get a place on the team, but I still wanted to enquire."  
  
"Well, Mr Malfoy ... the thing is." Flint sounded nervous - good - he deserves to be intimidated after what he's done to my Quidditch career, "Draco only tried out for one position, and it was already filled. I was only replacing team-members who had graduated last year."  
  
"And ...? Was Draco a competent player?" Father asked icily.  
  
"I'd not say that, sir ... it's be an understatement. But as I said - the position was already taken, and -"  
  
"If the current Seeker had been merely another candidate, rather than guaranteed the position, would he still have been chosen over Draco?"  
  
"Ahh ... Draco caught the Snitch and knocked the other two Seeker-wannabies off their brooms - Higgs was the only other player to stay in the air for that part of the try-outs." Flint said.  
  
"So my son catches the Snitch against your current Seeker, and you still stubbornly refuse to increase your chances of winning, simply because of an irrational rule that you made up?" Father snarled.  
  
"Um ... yeah." Flint admitted.  
  
"I don't suppose I could convince you to be fair? Considering that you rejected my son's application for the team on a personal whim, rather than based on skill. Considering that you admit Draco is better than the Seeker you have. Would I be able to convince you to change your mind?"  
  
"I really don't -" Flint started, but Father interrupted.  
  
"I have something for your team, if you will allow my son to play. I wouldn't have made this offer if you had told me that Draco had not earned what you denied him." a pause, and I wished I could see what was going on.  
  
Then Flint's voice, "That's - that's a Nimbus two thousand and one! They only came out in America at the start of this month ... won't hit the market here for another two." he said, sounding dazed.  
  
"And I can provide your entire team with them, if you are fair. I'm sure it's not something you usually do - being fair - if you even know the meaning of the word. But I could put it this way if you want me to: I am buying my son a place on the team that he should have been given anyway. Do we have a deal?"  
  
"Seven N-2K1s in exchange for letting the kid play? And he IS up to it, really. I only didn't let him on the team because he was such a rotten little prat, last year - no offence to you, sir - but the rumours say he was the one responsible for putting me in the Hospital Wing ... that I can't act on in the total absence of proof. Sorry, sir - I didn't mean -"  
  
"Shut up. Stop ranting while you're behind." Father snapped, "Whatever evil-doings my son gets up to are only my concern if it can be proven that he was the culprit. Now - we have a deal - my son will play on the Slytherin house team ... and you will find these in the Slytherin locker-area when you get to school. I wish I could say it was a pleasure doing business with you ... but, honestly, it wasn't. Now I have other things to attend to ... goodbye."  
  
With that, the flaming-noise that signals the end of a Floo conversation sounded and I heard Father moving across the study. I bolted down the corridor and made it round the corner just before the study door opened.  
  
I got back to my room without anyone being any the wiser about the fact that I overheard that conversation. I was so happy, I could have flown without the broom. I was on the house team ... and we were all playing on Nimbus 2001s ... the Quidditch Cup was ours for sure, this year ... again. And I would be a major player in that victory, this time. I'd get some attention, for a change ... and to beat Potter would be an added bonus.  
  
x x x  
  
As I ate my breakfast, on the morning of September 1st, Father told me about Flint's sudden change of heart. I really was going to enjoy this - the Quidditch thing, I mean - and I could just picture the look on Potter's face. Of course, I'd have to keep an eye out for Higgs, who would be none-too-pleased.  
  
Father disappeared as I finished breakfast and I could hear him yelling from the Hall, "Draco! You're going to miss the train unless you get out here, right now!"  
  
I jumped up, said goodbye to Mother (which included a hug - I thought I'd grown too old for hugs from mummy, but nooooo), and ran to the fireplace, to find Father waiting for me. My trunk was also present and seemed to have grown a pair of legs. Closer examination proved that it was actually being carried by Dobby.  
  
One Floo-journey later and I was jumping on the train with two minutes left. After seeing me safely onto the train, Father waved goodbye, in a formal way that (when used to send off his own son) shows just how much he doesn't want anyone to see him acting human, and Disapparated. The trunk appeared on the rack above my head, and the elf appeared on top of it. I looked around to check that no one was watching, before turning to the elf, "Can you try to make Potter miss the train? I checked all the compartments and he's not here yet. I don't want to see him when I get there, or you will have to iron your hands - understood?"  
  
Dobby nodded, squeaking slightly and disappeared. A minute later the train left, completely Potter-free.  
  
After a few minutes, Crabbe and Goyle found me and planted themselves on the seats opposite. I looked at them with some surprise - they both had equal evil-grins on their faces.  
  
"What are you two up to?" I asked.  
  
"Potter's not here ... Weasley's missing and his little sister is crying her eyes out about it." Goyle said, with a sadistic glint in his eye.  
  
"That's all?" I asked, disappointed, "I could have told you that ... except for the crying-little-sister part."  
  
"And Granger-Mudblood's going to give herself a nervous breakdown." Crabbe said, grinning, "She's running around in panicked circles."  
  
"And muttering incomprehensible three-or-four-syllable phrases, like a hyperactive Jarvey." Theo added, as he entered the compartment and sat next to me, "I think she was ready to jump off the train to look for them, as it was pulling out of the station."  
  
I smirked at the image of Hermione acting like a Jarvey. I couldn't see her using that many swear-words ... though it was possible that she might, if she was upset enough. I wonder why Weasley didn't get here, though. Shame - I'd have liked to annoy him. "Well, without our favourite victims I guess we'll have to resort to the rest of the Weasleys." I said, smirking.  
  
"Bad idea to go near Prefect-Percy - he's been detention-happy since he got that badge, last year." Theo noted, "But the terrible twins are free-game, and the little girl ... fresh meat -"  
  
"No." I snapped, "Don't bother her."  
  
"Why not?" all three of them asked.  
  
"Because ... she's not worth bothering with." I really did not have a legitimate excuse to leave her alone, "She doesn't rise to the bait like the others. I tried to bug her in Diagon Alley and I didn't even get a death-threat from her ... so what's the point?"  
  
Crabbe and Goyle accepted this without question - some of the words I used were above their level of understanding. Theo, meanwhile, gave me a what's-your-real-reason look. I didn't give anything away - I wasn't planning on telling anyone about Tom Riddle unless/until I had to.  
  
x x x  
  
After a while, and a lot of arguing over a wide range of subjects (including Quidditch, school, Quidditch, the holidays we'd just finished, and Quidditch ... among other Quidditch-related topics), the snack-trolley arrived. Crabbe and Goyle looked at me blankly, as if to say 'you bought food for us last time'.  
  
Theo ordered four blood-flavoured lollipops - this earned him a glare from the witch who was selling the snacks.  
  
I grinned, and ordered three boxes of Every-Flavour Beans and four Chocolate Frogs. Last year those two human garbage-disposals ate all the beans before I could get any, so this year I'm giving them a box each (greedy gits) ... and a frog each, for all four of us.  
  
As I examined a suspicious green-coloured bean (trying to decide if it was spinach or lemon-and-lime - I always get those two mixed up), Theo opened one of the blood-pops and started eating it.  
  
Crabbe and Goyle stared at him, neglecting their beans, in their shock.  
  
"You're actually eating that?" I asked, surprised, "I thought you'd bought it just to freak her out?"  
  
Theo grinned and took the blood-pop out of his mouth, "I am not a vampire - don't worry." he said, "I just happened to like these ... always have." he shrugged, "And I love the effect it has on people. Last year I freaked out five others in our year and a third-year."  
  
"How can you eat those? They're - well the label says it all, really - blood-flavoured." I asked, giving him the you-are-bloody-weird look.  
  
He shrugged, "I told ya. I dunno. I just like 'em, O.K.?" and then he started on the blood-pop, again.  
  
"Strange." I muttered, popping the suspicious bean in my mouth ... and then spitting it across the compartment, when I realised it was spinach.  
  
Theo grinned past the blood-pop, while Goyle tried to remove the green goo-that-was-a-bean from his hair.  
  
I leaned on the window-ledge and proceeded to ignore the three of them. It didn't take long for them to start up an argument over which Quidditch team was going to win the World Cup, next year.  
  
I was just beginning to dose off, staring at the horizon, when I saw something dive under the clouds and back up again. I thought it was probably a bird. Fifteen minutes later, the same thing. I frowned, seeing some sort of metallic shine off it, in the sunlight. Maybe a Muggle plane. Twenty minutes passed, and the whatever-it-was dived down and swooped up, again. It was staying above the cloud cover, deliberately ... but it was going the same direction as us. I didn't really care - like I said, maybe a Muggle plane, flying the same general course as our train takes - no big deal. Twenty minutes after that, it appeared again - ducking lower, thanks to the heavier clouds in the area we were passing through. This time, I noticed that it was lacking in wings ... I was sure Muggle aircraft needed wings. The fifth time it appeared, it went even lower, and I recognised it ... a flying car.  
  
I frowned, "Did you guys see that?" I asked, interrupting the heated debate over exactly how badly the Chudley Cannons would lose, in the first heat of the World Cup (they were trying to come to a decision between a 100 point and a 250 point loss).  
  
"See what?" Crabbe and Goyle both asked, out of time with each other just enough to sound really bad. Theo gave me a confused look, but didn't speak, because he still had the blood-pop in his mouth.  
  
"There was something flying out there. I thought it was a bird, or a Muggle air-thing, but it turned out to be a flying car. Muggle cars can't fly, can they?" I asked, not completely sure if Muggle cars actually could fly, or not.  
  
"They can't." Theo said, deigning to remove the blood-pop from his mouth, for long enough to speak, "It'd need to be enchanted. And we all know how illegal that is, don't we?" I nodded, but Crabbe and Goyle looked blank, "I'd say it'd get whoever's driving it in a great deal of trouble with the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts department."  
  
"Doesn't Weasley run that?" I asked. Theo nodded, "Hmm. Theory being theorised, here." I said, a vicious grin crossing my face, "Who would want to follow the Hogwarts train?" blank stares from all three, "Who MISSED the Hogwarts train?"  
  
"Potter." Crabbe said immediately.  
  
"And Weasley." Goyle added.  
  
"And if they were to use an illegal flying car to get to Hogwarts, who'd get in trouble for that?" I asked.  
  
"Mr Weasley." Theo said, grinning evilly, "And he's the head of the department, too ... oh, the scandal! I like it."  
  
"Well, I hope they crash in the lake." I said coldly. Theo glanced at me with some confusion, but didn't ask his question. Crabbe and Goyle were already in trances of stupidity and didn't notice anything wrong.  
  
x x x  
  
As we arrived at the castle doors, in one of many horseless carriages (a firstie girl looked like she was petting an imaginary horse in from of one of the carriages), I heard a screeching noise and Noctowl (my eagle owl) swooped down at us, landing on Crabbe's head. I took the evening paper from him and handed him an owl treat. Noctowl flew off happily ... but not before leaving an unpleasant surprise on Crabbe's shoulder. I suppressed a laugh and turned my attention to the paper.  
  
Theo looked over my shoulder, "Aww. I thought the raid on the De Vil Mansion would have made the front page," he muttered.  
  
"De Vil? They're related to me." I said, surprised - I hadn't heard about that one, "These raids are getting ridiculous ... next thing you know, they'll be darkening the doorway of Malfoy Manor."  
  
"As if!" Theo scoffed, "They'd never dare."  
  
"You wanna bet?" I asked, as we trailed behind the Pea-brained Pair, "Weasley's in charge of most of the raids, and we all know he's got a grudge against us. And speaking of the front-page ... look at that: 'Flying Ford Anglia Mystifies Muggles'."  
  
"You think that's what you saw?" Theo asked, snatching my paper away, "Let's see, at least seven Muggles spotted it."  
  
"If it was heading for Hogwarts, someone ought to be informed of this, don't you think?" I asked, grinning vindictively. If I was right, two Gryffindors would be getting expelled tonight.  
  
Wandering into the Entrance Hall, I spotted Snape, who was systematically glaring at each and every student who passed him. I pushed through the crowd, towards my house master, while Theo allowed the crowd to carry him towards the Great Hall. "What do you want, Mr Malfoy?" Snape asked, as I approached from his left - he couldn't have seen me, I'd thought.  
  
"I thought you might like to see this, Professor." I said, handing him the paper.  
  
He took it irritably and scanned through the front page. "Well? What is supposed to be so interesting about this?" he asked icily.  
  
"I think that car was following the train." I said calmly - keeping one's composure, under Snape's icy glare, is a major achievement, "And a couple of Gryffindor students happened to miss the train. I don't believe in coincidences, sir." The Great Hall was full, now, and I was itching to get in there before the Sorting started.  
  
Snape gave me a searching look, "Who do you think would be daft enough to fly a car from London to Hogwarts ... even within Gryffindor house?" he asked.  
  
I heard a crashing noise outside, followed by a few more loud smashing sounds, "I think that might be them." I said, trying not to grin too much.  
  
Snape looked royally pissed off and I was thankful his anger wasn't directed at me, "Get into the Hall, now, Malfoy. I will deal with this."  
  
I bolted into the Great Hall and landed in my seat just before the first-years started to file in. "Hey, Pansy." I whispered, "Miss me?"  
  
"As if." she replied, "I had a great holiday, without you." she glanced at me, to gauge my reaction. I didn't react. "Oh, Draco, you know I really missed you." she said, hoping that her attempt at making me jealous hadn't chased me away. To be honest, I'd kinda hoped that she'd have enjoyed that trip to Europe her parents took her on ... but obviously she's still obsessed. I'll have to try harder to get rid of her - maybe America, next time. The problem is that however far away I send her, she always comes back to me.  
  
"Draco - I think we've got ourselves an interloper." Cat said, pointing to the newest Slytherin first year. A black-haired boy by the name of Browning.  
  
"Browning's a Muggle name." Milli noted.  
  
"Could be half-blood." I added.  
  
"Did you ever see such a prat?!" Pansy asked, pointing to a small mousy-haired boy who was scampering over to the Gryffindor table. "Creevy ... strange child."  
  
"Creepy Creevy." Cat said immediately.  
  
"That fits." I said grinning.  
  
A little bit later on, "Lovegood, Luna"  
  
A fair-haired witch (the same firstie I saw petting the imaginary horse) jumped a little at this, "Who, me?" she asked, before wandering up to the Sorting Hat, as if she had been going in that direction anyway, and placing it on her head with the air that this is the latest in cool fashion accessories.  
  
It seemed to think about her for a few minutes, before shouting out, "Ravenclaw!"  
  
Lovegood took off the Hat, slowly, and said loud enough for all to hear, "That is a surprise," before wandering over to the Ravenclaw table.  
  
"Strange child." Theo muttered ... and coming from him, that is saying something.  
  
And nearer the end, Weaslette was called: "Weasley, Ginerva."  
  
"I'd bet a hundred Galleons on Gryffindor." Pansy whispered, as Weaslette trotted up to the Sorting Hat.  
  
"I wouldn't." I said calmly.  
  
"Why not?" Pansy asked.  
  
"I just wouldn't." I said, refusing to give her any information. But she was right - Ginny Weasley was Sorted into Gryffindor. She probably hadn't 'talked' to the diary, yet. It'd turn her into a Slytherin easily.  
  
x x x  
  
"Alright, What's up with you, Draco?" Theo asked, as we got to our dorm. The Brainless Boys were still in the common room, demolishing the armfuls of cakes they had brought back from the Feast, so we were alone.  
  
"What on Earth are you talking about?" I asked innocently.  
  
"You saying you wished Potter would crash in the lake, after all the trouble we went to last year. And the thing with Weasley-the-youngest, where you said not to pick on her. What's going on?" he asked, glaring at me.  
  
"Well, I don't want Daft and Dafter to know which side I'm really on, do I? And as to Weaslette, I can't tell you that one. Yet."  
  
"Something big? Or is it just personal?" Theo asked.  
  
"Big." I said, trying not to show how truly terrifying this potential problem really was. Maybe she'd just ignore the diary, or maybe she left it at home. It's entirely possible that nothing bad will happen, this year. I didn't want to panic anyone until I was one hundred percent certain that it was worth panicking about.  
  
x x x  
  
End of chapter 3 


	4. Lockhart Is A Freak

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's.  
  
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar.  
  
Chapter 4 - Lockhart Is A Freak  
  
In the morning, I discovered that Potter and his pet Weasel had NOT been expelled. I still don't understand how they managed to get away with that one, but Snape was definitely in a bad mood so I can rest assured that he doesn't want Potter here any more than I do. My breakfast that day was interrupted by two things. One: Noctowl brought me the usual bag of sweets - not such a big deal but it's always important to keep myself stocked up on junk food. And two: the Weasleys' family owl took a nosedive into the Gryffindors' breakfasts and dropped a Howler on Potter's sidekick.  
  
Howlers are fun ... mostly because my parents would never embarrass me in such a manner (they prefer to keep my few failures private), so I never get them, therefore I enjoy when other people do.  
  
"STEALING THE CAR! I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU! I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT HAD GONE? WE WERE AFRAID THE MUGGLE AUTHORITIES HAD IMPOUNDED IT! WE RECEIVED A LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT! I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME! WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS! YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED! I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED! YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, AND IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT! IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE, WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT HOME!"  
  
Wow, that was a really good one. And Weasley Sr is getting in trouble for the flying car ... well, where else would his idiot of a son and the Brat-Who-Lived get their hands on a flying car? I started laughing and a few other students (at all four tables, surprisingly) joined in.  
  
* * *  
  
Classes that morning were anything but interesting. First was Transfiguration - I swear McGonagall has it in for me - and second we had Charms, which was spent going over the last years work to make sure we hadn't forgotten it all. The only interesting part of the morning was when one of the Hufflepuffs managed to levitate the chair he was sitting on, instead of the feather on his table.  
  
We (all the Slytherin second-years) were walking past the courtyard, on our way from lunch to our next class, "I can't believe they'd let him teach DADA." Cat said, scowling.  
  
"You know what they say: 'those who can do, those who can't teach'." Theo noted.  
  
"We'll have Crabbe and Goyle teaching table-manners, then." Pansy replied instantly.  
  
I tried not to laugh, as I said, "I almost pity the Gryffindors. They've got his first class."  
  
"How'd you know?" Pansy asked.  
  
"Because he's been running around all morning, annoying the other teachers, and Snape made the comment to Flitwick, that Lockhart would actually have to be in his classroom long enough to torment the Gryffindors, too." I said, smirking.  
  
"You listen in on teachers' conversations?" Cat asked.  
  
"Only when they're right next to me and talking loudly enough." I said defensively.  
  
Just then, I overheard the words, "I know all about you. Everyone's told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you -" I stopped walking to listen, turning to see that Creepy was the one prattling excitedly to Potter, "- and how he disappeared and everything, and how you've still got a lightening scar on your forehead, and a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures'll move." Creepy paused for breath, and if I hadn't already disliked him on sight, I'd have definitely decided to hate him, now, "It's brilliant here, isn't it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts."  
  
The 'interloper', as Cat called him, had been standing behind us and now took a step towards Creepy and Potter, "Where're you going?" I asked, holding my arm out to stop him.  
  
The boy looked up at me nervously, "He's in my year and I've not met any other kids whose parents aren't magic, yet."  
  
I looked at the Mudblood, carefully, "You're not half-blood, then?" I asked. He shook his head in response. "I've honestly never known any Mud- ah - Muggle-born - to be in Slytherin, before." I said, looking up at Theo who just shrugged.  
  
"Never happened. There's not many half-bloods, either." Blaise informed me. Yeah - I wish there had been one fewer.  
  
I turned back to the Slytherin-Mudblood (definitely a unique occurrence, so I can refer to him as that, even though I don't know his name), "You don't make friends with Gryffindors." I said coldly, "They are the enemy."  
  
I returned my attention to Potter and his admirer, just in time to hear Creepy say, "- your friend could take it, and I could stand next to you? And then you could sign it?"  
  
I couldn't resist this one ... especially since I saw Lockhart entering the far side of the courtyard. I beckoned my Shadow-Impersonators to follow me, and stepped out behind Creepy, "Signed photos?" I asked, in my best you-are-a-stuck-up-prat voice. I saw Lockhart wandering off, towards the DADA classroom, so I raised my voice and all-but-shouted, "Everyone queue up! Harry Potter's giving out signed photos!"  
  
"No I'm not! Shut up, Malfoy." Potter snapped, looking almost ready to kill.  
  
"You're just jealous." Creepy squeaked. How dare a rotten little twerp like that, which Pansy could knock out, talk back to me?  
  
And more to the point - how did he hit so near to the mark? I saw the entire courtyard watching, so opted for quiet and dangerous, instead of shouting, "Jealous? Of what? I don't want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself." Well it doesn't, so how come he gets all the attention?  
  
"Eat slugs, Malfoy!" Weasley-the-sidekick yelled (well I have to differentiate between them, and I'm not using their first names).  
  
"Be careful, Weasley. You don't want to start any trouble or your mummy'll have to come and take you away from school." I said, grinning - oh what a shame that would be ... you know that was sarcasm, right? I then started screeching, "If you put another toe out of line - " in what was supposed to be a bad impression of Mrs Weasley. Some of the older Slytherins laughed - I hadn't realised I was good enough at Gryffindor-baiting to make the older Slyths laugh - good thing to know. "Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter. It'd be worth more than his family's whole house."  
  
Weasley took out a broken-and-taped-together wand, and would have tried to hex me if Hermione hadn't whispered something to him, indicating the approaching figure of Gilderoy Lockhart.  
  
"What's all this, what's all this?" Lockhart asked, sounding and looking like the self-obsessed ass-hole that too few people realise he actually is, "Who's giving out signed photos?" He scanned the group and his eyes landed on Potter. His reaction was more hilarious than I had expected, "Shouldn't have asked! We meet again, Harry!"  
  
My job done, and Potter well and truly humiliated, I melted into the crowd of on-lookers. And I think I almost pitied the boy - Lockhart really should not be inflicted on anyone ... but it was funny.  
  
"Come on, then, Mr Creevy. A double portrait, can't say fairer than that, and we'll both sign it for you." Lockhart said, somehow managing to show all his probably-fake-or-at-least-magically-whitened teeth, while speaking. Creepy jumped at the chance, and took the picture, while Potter tried to pretend not to be there. Just then, the bell rang and Lockhart shooed everyone away.  
  
"I can not believe you did that." Theo said, grinning, "I mean, setting Lockhart on someone is the height of cruelty ... but then, it is Potter we're talking about."  
  
By dinnertime, news had gotten around the whole school that Lockhart had set a cage full of Cornish Pixies on the Gryffindor class. Longbottom had to be removed from the ceiling, and Lockhart had run away screaming for his mummy ... not that the Ravens' gossip-mongers are the most accurate source of details, but it sounded good.  
  
* * *  
  
I tried to set Lockhart on Potter again, but it didn't work - Potter was wise to Lockhart's attitude, now, and avoided the man like the plague. So I went for another approach. I convinced Cat to bribe Patil (the Gryffindor one) to get their timetable, and sold it to Creepy at a ridiculous profit. That seemed to have the desired effect of annoying Potter.  
  
That Friday was our first DADA class. Lockhart seemed to have decided not to use real creatures, anymore. Thank the gods his first class was with Gryffindor, so he could make the mistake with them, rather than us. The back window was still broken, presumably by the pixies.  
  
I sat near the front, purely to get a good seat to see the damage we would do to him, later in the year. Theo and Blaise on either side, Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy in the row behind us.  
  
Lockhart entered the room, wearing robes so brightly coloured that they probably glowed in the dark. We all stared in horror. Theo was the first of us to find his voice, "Bright colours are the devil's work," he muttered. I nodded in agreement.  
  
Lockhart stopped in front of my desk and held up a glossy photo of himself, that he had produced from his pocket, "Me." he said, in a way that implies he thinks himself to be the centre of the universe, "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League -"  
  
"Professional narcissist." I interrupted, loudly and clearly.  
  
Lockhart stopped and glared at me, while Theo muttered, "Look who's talking."  
  
I now glared at Theo, "My narcissism is only a hobby." I said coldly.  
  
The rest of the class started sniggering, while Lockhart tried to regain control. "- and winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award - but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"  
  
Pansy spoke up, "No, you WROTE ABOUT getting rid of her by smiling at her ... no reason to imply that you really did."  
  
Lockhart's eyes flashed in a way usually reserved for pissed off evil-overlords. "ANYWAY." he said sharply, "We'll be starting with a quick quiz, to see how well you've read the books I've set for you." and with that, he handed out pages of parchment to everyone. "You have thirty minutes. Start - now!"  
  
I scanned the questions, with growing incredulity. I was NOT about to take this seriously.  
  
1/ What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favourite colour? ... Neon-orange with Barbie-pink polka dots.  
  
2/ What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition? ... To become a drag queen.  
  
3/ What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement? ... Surviving without being told when to breathe in and out.  
  
And I continued in that style, for the rest of the paper. Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer.  
  
And after the time was up, he read over the answers. "I am truly shocked at how few of you answered correctly. Some of you have the strangest ideas about my personal life. And how does neon-orange with Barbie-pink polka-dots count as a single colour, anyway?" Lockhart asked. Everyone was looking around to try to figure out who had been obnoxious enough to insult Lockhart so blatantly (it was me - I did it all - I am the criminal). "Mr Malfoy, I want a word with you, after class."  
  
Considering some of the answers I gave him, I guessed the fact I smirked and winked at him, in response to this, might just have scared him a bit. I did that on purpose, too. I have it in for this guy and he will not survive the year with his sanity intact - this, I swear.  
  
After class (during which we watched Lockhart re-enact one of his fictitious accounts of heroism), I waited with my bag packed and ready to go.  
  
"Now, Mr Malfoy. Would you care to explain this?" he asked, holding up the paper that I'd answered.  
  
"It's a piece of parchment, with writing on it." I said, forcing myself to keep a straight face.  
  
Lockhart, however, didn't have my composure, "You know perfectly well what I am talking about. Now explain yourself, or I will give you detention and take points from your house."  
  
I blinked. Last time I had detention, I was sent into the Forbidden Forest ... and I wasn't about to lose house points so early in the year, if I could help it. "I wrote down the first things that came to mind." I said calmly, not once did I look away or blink or even laugh. And I was telling the truth, which made it harder not to laugh.  
  
Lockhart stared at me. I think I really was beginning to unnerve him. I continued to look at him, unblinkingly. He looked away first. "You are a trouble-maker, Mr Malfoy," he said simply.  
  
"Yes, I am. But most of the time, no one can prove it." I admitted. He looked shocked that I was actually saying this. "I only did this to you, because I wanted to see if I could make you vomit over you 'lovely' purple robes."  
  
Another glare. "If you try anything like this again, you will be in detention. And for now, ten points from Slytherin. Get out of here and try and remember where you put your sense of decency."  
  
"I don't have any." I said immediately.  
  
"Get some." and with that, he turned and stalked out of the door. I grinned. This was going to be fun.  
  
* * *  
  
At dinner that evening, Lockhart couldn't go five minutes without glaring angrily at me.  
  
"What did you do to him, Draco?" Blaise asked, from across the table.  
  
"I used my superior logic and distinct lack of common decency to scare the hell out of him." I said, grinning at Lockhart as he glared at me again, "I think I can make him go insane by the end of the school year."  
  
"Well, if you don't, he'll drive Potter insane." Theo noted, with a sadistic smirk.  
  
"I'm going to try to time it for both." I answered.  
  
* * *  
  
End of chapter 4 


	5. I Admit, I'm Bad

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's. Part of Draco's speech about dangerous books was inspired by Slytherin Rising, but not quoted directly from it.  
  
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar.  
  
I have been asked, by several people so far, to write out the entire copy of Draco's DADA quiz, questions and answers. I would be glad to. Could you help me? Any suggestions for questions would be only too welcome. Thank you.  
  
Chapter 5 - I Admit, I'm Bad  
  
At about five-to-nine in the morning, on the first weekend of term, Flint could be seen stalking around the Great Hall, waiting impatiently for the rest of the team, who had been told to be there by nine or they'd regret it ... when Flint tells you you'll regret it, it usually means something very painful. I already was there and had finished my breakfast. So had the other two Chasers. I had noticed that Potter hadn't deigned to make an appearance at the Gryffindor table, while Weasley and Hermione had only stopped in long enough to collect a small breakfast-snack ... but that was totally irrelevant (and I think I am obsessed with those three ... in the way that involves hating them ... except Hermione - I like her).  
  
With ten seconds to go (by Flint's watch) the Keeper and Beaters made it in time. Then Flint stood up and snapped, "Right, let's go."  
  
I followed the rest of the team down to the pitch. There, we entered the changing rooms to find seven Nimbus 2001 brooms waiting for us. "Wow." Pucey said, stunned.  
  
"Where'd you get these?" Derrick asked, picking up one of them.  
  
"A gift." Flint said, grinning. "Why'd you think I let Malfoy on the team, after all the times I swore I never would?"  
  
They all turned to stare at me, "You bribed Flint?" Bole asked, "You really are corrupt."  
  
"I didn't bribe him." I said defensively, "And I should have made the team without my father needing to bribe him, anyway." I added, glaring at Flint.  
  
"O.K." Flint said, holding up his hands, "I get it. Don't keep rubbing it in. Now, let's get out there and practice."  
  
So we walked out onto the pitch, to see seven red-and-gold-clad people already in the air. The Gryffindor team. The other Slytherins stood in front of me, concealing me from view, while still allowing me to see past them. The Gryffindor team captain flew down and all-but-crashed in front of us, yelling, "Flint! This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off, now!"  
  
Flint just smirked, trying to look innocent ... and not doing too good a job of it, "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood." he responded.  
  
"But I booked the pitch! I booked it!" Wood whined, while his team began to land around him.  
  
Flint took smugness to new levels, as he said, "Ah, but I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch pitch, owing to the need to train their new Seeker'." I hadn't been aware of any note. Nor, for that matter, had I known that Gryffindor had booked the pitch. And while we're talking about things I was unaware of - I was under the impression that I was already a damned good Seeker and didn't need special attention as far as training goes.  
  
"You've got a new Seeker? Where?" Wood asked, seeming not to believe a word from Flint ... then again, I would tend to take everything Flint says with a pinch - no, a handful - of salt, too.  
  
I stepped out, past Montague, so that the Gryffindors could all see me clearly. I was smirking anyway, but if I hadn't been, the looks on their faces would have fixed that. They were stunned ... mostly, "Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" one of the Weasley twins asked (I couldn't tell them apart if I'd wanted to).  
  
I really hate when people ask me that. Hate it. Flint, on the other hand, "Funny you should mention Draco's father. Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team." he said. On that cue, we all held out the Nimbus 2001s, for the Loser-Lions to see. "Very latest model. Only came out last month." Flint said, neglecting to note that they only came out last month in America and wouldn't be available to buy here for another month or two. "I believe it outstrips the old 2000 series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps, sweeps the board with them." the Weasley twins (who had Cleansweep fives) both looked jealous as Hell, and not one of the Gryffindors could come up with a suitable comeback. After a full minute of receiving death-glares (if looks could kill ...), Flint spoke, "Oh, look. A pitch invasion."  
  
I looked up to see Weasley and Hermione running towards us. They stopped next to the other Gryffindors, "What's happening? Why aren't you playing?" Weasley asked Potter, "And what's he doing here?" he added, glaring at me.  
  
"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley. Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team." I said, watching with amusement as Weasley stared. "Good, aren't they? But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too." I suggested, with a smirk, "You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives, I expect a museum would bid for them."  
  
That comment prompted fits of laughter from the rest of the Slytherin team and angry glares from the Gryffindors. Hermione was the one to talk back to me, "At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They got in on pure talent."  
  
I was surprised that she would be so harsh - I had thought I'd made it clear that I wasn't her enemy. And that was exactly the wrong thing to say to me, at the best of times, "No one asked your opinion." I snarled angrily, "You filthy little Mudblood."  
  
Maybe that was overkill, but the Gryffindors' reactions were worth it. The Weasley twins both tried to jump me and only failed because Flint stepped in their way. One of the Gryffindor Chasers yelled at me, while Weasley produced the still-broken wand and pointed it at me, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy."  
  
A flash of green light backfired from the broken wand, sending Weasley to the ground. That's gotta hurt. Hermione was at the Weasel's side in seconds, fussing over him. He sat up and promptly vomited slugs all over the place.  
  
I literally fell over with laughter. I wasn't the only one, either - the whole Slytherin team were in hysterics. By the time I managed to stop laughing, Potter, Weasley and Hermione had gone. I picked myself up, still sniggering, and turned to look at the twins, "Is your brother a masochist, or just stupid?" I asked. They just glared at me.  
  
"Can't practice without your whole team, Wood." Flint said, smirking, "And unless you want to suffer the wrath of Professor Snape, I suggest you leave now."  
  
Wood told Flint to do something obscene with a gerbil, before leaving the pitch, followed by a very upset group of Gryffindors.  
  
We spent the rest of the morning practicing. Flint really pushes the team hard - on average you'd be lucky to survive a practice session without getting hit by a Bludger at least twice and being knocked off your broom at least once ... I was lucky during that practice and only got hit with a Bludger once, staying on my broom the whole time. Speaking of brooms, I was amazed at how easy the Nimbus 2001 was to fly. It had an almost non-existent turning circle and speed that I'd never seen before - when I watched the rest of the team, they looked like a blur of green. And the reaction time was better, by far, than my old broom - almost instantaneous ... almost. I could pull off stunts I'd never managed (tried, but not succeeded) before, on the Comet 260. I also caught the Snitch five times in three hours - not bad at all, I thought.  
  
"You need to work on that dive, Malfoy." Flint told me, as we returned to the Great Hall for lunch, "If you can get that perfected, you'll be able to run the enemy into the ground - Wronski Feint - you've heard of that, right?"  
  
"No, duh. Of course I have." I snapped, "You think I'd try for the position, without knowing all there was to know about it first? What kind of Slytherin do you think I am?"  
  
"One who acts like a spoilt brat," Flint replied, "And you could have fooled me, the way you were messing around out there. Show off. You need to concentrate more - if you miss the Snitch in favour of one of those stupid stunts, I'll have your head."  
  
"I was just testing the new broom. Haven't been allowed to touch it till today." I said bitterly.  
  
"Yeah, I believe that." Flint said sarcastically.  
  
* * *  
  
I had unearthed a specific book, bound in dark green leather, from my trunk - I wasn't sure if I'd remembered to bring it with me, but I obviously had - and taken it up to the Library, where I could get away from most of the other students.  
  
I was just beginning to read it, when someone entered the otherwise deserted Library. I looked up to see Hermione stalk across the room and sit as far away from me as possible. I watched her for a moment and came to the conclusion that she was deliberately ignoring me. I didn't blame her, but she started it ... I know that sounds childish, but she did.  
  
"I think we're the only people who ever use this place on a Saturday." I said, loud enough for her to hear me but not loud enough for Madam Pince to hear from her office.  
  
Hermione continued to ignore me. I stood up and, taking my book with me, wandered over to her table.  
  
"You do realise that I have a reputation to maintain?" I asked her, sitting opposite her, "And I was really only defending myself - you insulted me first."  
  
"Go to Hell, Malfoy." she snapped, refusing to look at me.  
  
"I'd rather not go back where I came from, thanks." I said, smirking. She looked up at me, just to check that I was joking.  
  
"You have a strange idea of humour," she said coldly, before returning her attention to her homework.  
  
"Yeah - I admit that." I said, still smirking, "But I deny the accusation that I don't have the talent to get on the Slytherin Quidditch team."  
  
She looked up at me again, glaring, "Then where did those brooms come from?"  
  
"Flint has a personal grudge against me." I said, watching her, "I went to the try-outs and beat the other Seeker-wannabies, but Flint didn't let me on. I admit that my position on the team was bought, but I had earned it and been unfairly denied it, before I resorted to bribery. It's in the Slytherin Code of Conduct - 'If fair means have failed you, it's time to resort to foul'. I was highly offended by what you said, and I couldn't think of anything worse to say to you without being guilty of slander."  
  
She glared at me. "You, Draco Malfoy, are a self-centred, stuck-up prat who doesn't know when to shut up." she said, "You always find the worst way to behave in any situation. You can't accept when you're in the wrong, and you don't care about anyone's feelings but your own."  
  
I took a few seconds to go over what she'd just said, before answering, "Yes. Yes. Probably yes. You really think so? Not always. And yes."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"I responded to each accusation in the order you made them." I said, grinning at the confusion on her face, "I am self-centred. I am a stuck-up prat. I probably don't know when to shut up. You really think I always find the worst way to behave? … and by the way, I take that as a compliment. I can occasionally accept when I'm wrong. And I really do not care about anyone else's feelings, at all."  
  
"You really are not a normal person," she said, staring at me in confusion, "No normal person can admit things like that."  
  
"I don't just admit it. I take pride in it." I answered, "And I do admit that I was in the wrong earlier, but you DID start it - I just overreacted." I took a deep breath, before saying, "I'm ... sorry ... for calling you that. To be honest, I still use the word 'Mudblood' fairly often - it's shorter and takes less time to say than 'Muggle-born'."  
  
"You use an insulting and degrading name to refer to people, just because it's shorter?"  
  
"Yes." I said, smirking at her disapproval, "Will it help my case at all, if I remind you that I need to maintain my reputation? If I don't act like I hate Mudbloods, I'll get in a lot of trouble. And to be honest, you're the only one I like at all, anyway."  
  
"I don't understand why you're so intent on staying friends with people who think differently from you."  
  
"That's not who I'm afraid of." I said, "It's my father. If he ever heard that I so much as spoke to you without insulting you, I'd regret it, big time."  
  
She gave me an odd look, before saying, "I forgive you. To the extent that I won't plot revenge on you, yet."  
  
I grinned, "I thought you were supposed to be a Gryffindor?"  
  
"Just because I'm brave and have a few morals, doesn't mean I can't come up with a cunning plan or two," she snapped.  
  
"I was joking. You really need to learn how to tell when I'm being serious and when I'm not." I said, dropping my facade, and really smiling, "You will hear the word Mudblood from me a lot, in the future. Get used to it and don't take offence. If I want to insult you I can come up with something much more cutting than that."  
  
"I'm sure you can." she said, looking at me in a way that said she still didn't trust me as far as she could throw me, "I just wonder why you have to be so ... confusing."  
  
"I make an art of it." I said, still really smiling, "And besides, I'm a bit confused about what I want, too. I like the bad-boy image, but I'm not particularly interesting in genocide and bringing on the apocalypse. You can count on me when it's in my own best interest, but I'm not your ally. I'm like the anti-hero, but not the villain."  
  
She shook her head in confusion, and changed the subject, "What's that book, there?"  
  
"This?" I asked, holding it up for her to see, "Nothing you'd want to read. It's a Dark Arts book."  
  
"You're admitting to reading a book about the Dark Arts?" she asked.  
  
"What's wrong with learning Dark Arts?" I asked, "I don't intend to use it to harm anyone and there's no law against knowing things."  
  
"What is it?" she persisted, looking intently at the book. I carefully covered the title, just to be safe.  
  
"It's just something I thought I might find useful." I said evasively.  
  
"Like?"  
  
"Like none of your business." I snapped.  
  
"Let me see."  
  
"You are persistent, aren't you?" I asked irritably, "I'm not telling you what it's about."  
  
"Please." she said plaintively.  
  
"No." I snapped, "If I tell you, it'll put ideas in your head that you really don't want to have to worry about." She gave me a strange look, but I continued, "Some books can be dangerous, in the wrong hands - you ought to remember that. I've heard of books that burn your eyes out if you read them - I once met a book with a demon in it - and I know a witch who wrote what, at first glance, looks like a series of harmless children's books, but they turn their readers into crazed fanatics, unable to do anything except contemplate various alternate plotlines within a totally fictitious world, made all the worse for the fact that it was deliberately left unfinished. You need to be very careful with that sort of thing. This book is a one-of-a-kind, and it's pretty dangerous, if you don't know what you're doing with it."  
  
She stared at me, "You brought a dangerous book to school, where anyone could get their hands on it?"  
  
"I doubt I'm the only one." I said coldly, "Just leave me alone about it." and with that, I stood up and left, holding the book very tightly.  
  
* * *  
  
"Hey, Draco." Theo said, as he entered the dorm. I had chosen this as a place to read, because Hermione was in the Library, all three of the other boys had been out when I'd gotten back here and I wanted to be alone. "What'ya reading?"  
  
"None of your business." I said, trying to concentrate on the text - it was very hard to follow and the last thing I needed was to be distracted now.  
  
"Now I really want to know what it is." Theo said impertinently.  
  
I gave up reading and looked up at him, "You know the Quickspell courses for Squibs?" a nod, "This works on the same magical principle, teaching the reader to use a gift they don't have."  
  
"What gift?" Theo asked.  
  
"I'm teaching myself something that counts very much as part of the Dark Arts." I said, trying to be cryptic.  
  
"And that would be?"  
  
"If I tell you what I'm learning, you'll think I'm up to no good."  
  
"Tell." he said, "It's not like I don't know how deep into the Dark Arts your whole family are."  
  
I smirked, "I'm trying to learn Parseltongue."  
  
"How's that work?"  
  
"This book is a one-of-a-kind - the only copy in existence. It has been in my family for generations. Father never bothered with it, but I think it could come in handy. I found it in Father's library when I was seven and I still haven't gotten around to reading it, yet. Problem is that it's bloody difficult to work and I need to be alone, otherwise I'll not get it right. It's a complicated spell, at the best - the book itself has to let me have the gift it's teaching and even then I'll have to consciously translate it, where a real Parselmouth would know it like their first language."  
  
"So have you learned anything yet?" Theo asked, smirking.  
  
I frowned, "Not really ... but when I finish the book, I'll be able to at least understand the language, even if I can't speak it properly."  
  
"Cool. And totally evil. Isn't it illegal to learn Dark Arts, like that?"  
  
"Yes." I answered, honestly.  
  
* * *  
  
End of chapter 5 


	6. Poison

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's.  
  
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar.  
  
Chapter 6 - Poison  
  
I spent the next few weeks occupied with irritating Lockhart, schoolwork, winding up Lockhart, Quidditch practice, being rude to Lockhart, reading the Parseltongue book (which was next-to-impossible, and I'd barely read the first few pages), sabotaging Lockhart's classes (with Theo's help), trying to figure out how to get Potter expelled, and trying to figure out how to get Lockhart fired. All in all, I had a lot to do.  
  
Then, I had a problem. Less than a week before Halloween, while I was writing out my DADA homework ('write a poem about Gilderoy Lockhart's capture of the Vauxhall Vampire' ... I was trying to find something that rhymed with 'useless', at that point), Higgs approached me.  
  
"Hey. Malfoy." he said, in a polite voice that instantly made me suspicious, "I wanted to say, congratulations for getting on the team."  
  
Now that was beyond suspicious. That was downright creepy. "You did?" I asked, in a disbelieving tone.  
  
"Yeah." Higgs replied, still too polite, "I don't know how you did it, but if you can change Flint's mind, you deserve it. And I thought you did well enough at the try-outs, anyway." I still suspected an ulterior motive, here, and didn't let my guard down for a moment, "I just wanted to say, no hard feelings, really." he said, shrugging in a way that was supposed to look like he was shrugging off any negative feelings ... I doubted it was the least bit sincere. He then held out his hand, in a way that says he wants to shake on it, like he wanted me to agree that there were no bad feelings. I still didn't know what he was up to, but cautiously took his hand and shook it. Only then did I notice that he was wearing a glove ... a glove that must have been under an Unremarkable Charm (charm to make something go unnoticed, to look at) - because I only realised that he wore a glove when I felt leather instead of skin. As he let go of my hand, he grinned in a way that I was sure wasn't friendly, "Thanks." he said, before leaving.  
  
That was just not right. I quickly scrawled the last line of my 'poem' ('and every word of it is truthless'), and abandoned my homework.  
  
* * *  
  
I made fast progress to Professor Snape's office.  
  
"What do you want, Mr Malfoy?" Snape asked, as I entered his office.  
  
"I was wondering if you could tell me something ... out of personal interest, about poisons." I said, trying to be tactful.  
  
"Who are you trying to kill off, this year?" Snape asked, with an evil smirk.  
  
"Truthfully, no one ... yet, anyway." I said, "I just wanted to know something, is all."  
  
"What might you be interested in knowing?" Snape asked, in a way that implied he was very unlikely to tell me.  
  
"Are there any poisons that can be administered by skin-contact?" I asked, trying to sound curious, rather than nervous.  
  
"Several. Why?"  
  
"Is there any way of checking for them, and telling which one, after it's been taken?"  
  
"Yes. What, precisely, are you getting at, Mr Malfoy?"  
  
"I want to check, because I have reason to believe I might have been poisoned." I answered.  
  
"What gives you that idea?" Snape asked, although he seemed like he didn't want to know.  
  
"Does it matter?" I asked.  
  
"Not really. Where do you think you came into contact with the poison?"  
  
"My hand." I said, holding up my right hand for him to look at.  
  
"No visible signs of damage." Snape said, gripping my wrist, and looking at my palm, "I can cast a revealing spell, that should show any magic present ... of course, there are some non-magical poisons that may be used in this manner, but I doubt it." he said, looking at me in a way that implied that he could quite easily guess why I was poisoned and by who.  
  
"Not likely." I agreed.  
  
He cast a spell that I didn't quite hear, and a dark-red shapeless mark appeared on my hand. "This could be a problem." Snape muttered. As I looked at the red area, I saw that it was expanding ... slowly, but it was definitely growing.  
  
"What is it?" I asked nervously.  
  
"You were correct in your assumption that you were poisoned. I am surprised that you realised so quickly - usually this type of poison doesn't show symptoms until it is too late to prepare an antidote."  
  
"It's not too late, now, though ... is it?" I asked, now getting really scared.  
  
"No." Snape said, watching the redness spread to my wrist, and promptly dropping my hand. "It isn't contagious." he said quietly, as if to himself, before raising his voice to speak to me, "But you will need to go to the Hospital Wing the moment you start to show any symptoms."  
  
"What symptoms?" I asked, "And more importantly, how do we cure it?"  
  
"The antidote is simple, but takes three days to brew. Have you ever heard of the Blood Burning Potion?" he asked. I nodded, praying that wasn't what I'd been given, "It will take at least forty-eight hours before you start to feel ill, and another two days after that for it to become fatal." I winced at that last word. As if poisoning me wasn't bad enough, but it had to be a painful poison, too. Higgs would pay dearly for this ... the vengeful git. Snape continued to speak, "If I start work on the antidote, right away, you shouldn't suffer more than a mild fever."  
  
"Well, what are you waiting for?" I asked immediately.  
  
"I was wondering if you would like to help me make it? You are the best in your class, at Potions, and it might make the job take less time."  
  
I nodded, desperate to get this fixed. It was a Wednesday, and I didn't want to miss any classes. I was just getting to a crucial stage in destabilising Lockhart's sanity, and if I missed his lesson on Friday, it would ruin weeks of work.  
  
Snape led me into a small, separate potions classroom, which no one normally uses, and started getting out ingredients. "Top shelf, on that far wall. Second book from the right. Get it down." Snape said, not even looking up from the ingredients cupboard. I did as I was told, and as Snape set seven jars of various ingredients on the table, he then said, "Page fifty-three." and left the room. I opened the book to page fifty-three and started to read over the potion. It was an antidote for a variety of different burning and fire-related magics - everything from the Blood Burning Potion to Dragon fire. It was called the Ice Antidote ... fairly simple and obvious name, but it fitted its purpose pretty well. Snape returned, carrying a few more ingredients, which definitely weren't in the student cupboard, and we began working on the antidote.  
  
* * *  
  
It only took about twenty minutes to make the potion, but it needed to be stewed for the three days. I decided to pretend I was unaware of anything out of the ordinary. Snape agreed to play along. (Incidentally, the revealing charm wore off about five minutes after it was cast).  
  
On Friday evening, I began to feel the effects of the poison, and I noticed Higgs watching me, intently, across the common room. How obvious could you get? I don't understand how that comes under the heading of sneaky ... Slytherins are supposed to be sneaky. I ignored the beginnings of a fever, in favour of reading my Parseltongue book ... I was still only on the first of thirteen chapters (and there's that number again - thirteen is my lucky number, and it shows up in almost everything I do).  
  
Pansy was the first to notice something was wrong with me. "Draco - you don't look so good."  
  
"I'm not good ... I'm the bad-guy, remember?" I replied automatically.  
  
"No - I mean you look ill." she said, "I didn't know it was possible for your face to have colour in it."  
  
I smiled weakly, "It's probably nothing. Don't worry, Pansy." I said. I couldn't help but notice, out of the corner of my eye, Higgs smirking when I said that. Does he think he won't get caught? Does he think I'm really stupid enough to accept an offer of 'no hard feelings' from someone I cheated out of their most prized possession? (his position as Seeker on the Quidditch team had meant everything to him ... at least as much as it means to me). Does he really think he'd get away with it if I did die?  
  
After another few hours - just as most of the house had gone to bed, and I was about to, as well - I started to feel a real burning in my chest. This was literally heartburn - not what you normally think of as heartburn, but my heart itself was actually beginning to feel like it was on fire. The poison was kicking in to stage two. I knew that soon the pain would spread to the rest of my body, and I would eventually start to hallucinate ... unless I got the antidote first.  
  
I picked myself up, biting my lip but not voicing the pain. I know how to deal with pain. Higgs was still awake, as was Pansy - they were the only others who hadn't gone to bed.  
  
"Draco? What's wrong?" Pansy asked, standing up as soon as I did, and there was no point telling her I was fine, now.  
  
"I don't feel too well. Maybe you were right, Pans. I think I ought to go to the Hospital Wing." I said, clutching my chest.  
  
Pansy gave me a told-you-so look, before helping me up to the Hospital Wing. When I got there, I found an angry-looking Snape waiting for me. "Why didn't you come up here earlier?" he asked immediately. Pansy gave me a confused frown, but I shook it off.  
  
"I didn't feel too bad till just now." I answered.  
  
"According to my calculations, you should have been ill all evening." Snape growled, "Were you just trying to prove something?"  
  
"No." I answered, glaring at him, "I have a high pain threshold. I didn't notice anything wrong until now."  
  
"You could have collapsed on your way up here. You are lucky your girlfriend was with you." Snape snapped. That was low. And she's not my girlfriend ... although now I'll bet he's just encouraged her - she wishes she was my girlfriend, to the point of stalking me.  
  
"I'll be fine. The potion's O.K., isn't it?" I asked, sitting down on one of the Hospital beds. Pansy sat next to me.  
  
"Yes, it is. It will be ready to take tomorrow afternoon. You should be able to last that long - Madam Pomfrey will give you a cooling potion, which will ease some of the symptoms." Snape said, looking at me critically, "You should be more careful - if you knew that you were being poisoned, why did you let it happen?"  
  
"It's one of those things -" I said, waving my hand dismissively, "You realise it's happened a second too late. And I'd like if someone could stay within hearing range of me, at all times. I'd bet a gloater will appear, eventually, and I'd like to get them caught."  
  
"I'll see what I can do." and with that, Snape left the room, in the direction of Madam Pomfrey's office.  
  
"Draco." Pansy said immediately, "Why didn't you tell me you'd been poisoned?"  
  
"I didn't want to leave any chance of the culprit finding out that I knew about it. You won't tell anyone, will you, Pans?" I asked, in a plaintive voice.  
  
"Of course not!" she said, sounding almost indignant, if she hadn't been trying to sound comforting at the same time, "I care about you, too. I want to see some justice for this."  
  
"If they don't get caught, I'll ensure they get severely mutilated. Don't worry about that. But thanks, Pans. I hate to admit it, but Snape was right - I couldn't have made it up here without your help." I said, smiling weakly, through the pain. "I think you ought to go, now. Pomfrey's on her way, and you know how she gets about her patients."  
  
Pansy smiled, and gave me a hug, before standing up, "Get well soon, Draco." she said sweetly, and scampered out of the room.  
  
I lay back and closed my eyes in a grimace. The pain was getting worse. Still, as I said before, I know how to deal with pain.  
  
* * *  
  
The next morning, and quite conveniently (and most likely deliberately) at a moment when there was no one watching me, Higgs made an appearance in the Hospital Wing. "Hello, Malfoy." he said, grinning. "How are you feeling? I heard you were really ill. A fever, Pansy said."  
  
"Yeah." I replied, not bothering to try to sit up. The cooling potions had helped but I wasn't going to take any chances, "Don't worry about me - I've felt worse." I added honestly.  
  
"Do they know what it is, yet?" Higgs asked, trying to sound innocently curious ... and almost succeeding.  
  
"I think so, but Madam Pomfrey hasn't told me anything." I answered truthfully ... Madam Pomfrey hadn't told me anything, it was Snape who had told me, I just didn't mention that part ... economy with the truth is the best form of lying.  
  
"Why would they not tell you?" Higgs asked, now trying to sound concerned ... and failing terribly, this time.  
  
"Either it's no big deal, or it's fatal." I said, trying to sound like I was joking.  
  
"You think? What could be that bad?"  
  
"I'm kind of rooting for the 'no big deal' option, myself."  
  
"I dunno." Higgs said, shaking his head, "You really look pretty bad. Have you seen yourself? Your face is as red as a Weasley's hair."  
  
"I did not need to have THAT comparison made, thank you very much." I snarled, "And didn't you know - I don't have a reflection." I added jokingly.  
  
"Nah - a vampire'd be dust ages ago." Higgs said carelessly.  
  
"What's that mean?" I asked, snatching the opportunity he had accidentally offered me.  
  
"With a fever like yours?" he asked, in a sceptical tone, "I can feel the heat from here. No vampire could last that."  
  
"Right." I said acidly, "I don't suppose you could tell me what's wrong with me? Cause unless you know, get out and leave me alone with my pain."  
  
"I think I might have an idea." Higgs said, trying to sound cryptic.  
  
"Well? Out with it." I snapped.  
  
"Let's just say ... if you ever play Quidditch again, I'll be very surprised," he said, a vicious smirk crossing his face. "You didn't really believe me when I said 'no hard feelings' ... did you?"  
  
"I thought there was something wrong with that picture." I said bitterly, "So what did you do to me?"  
  
"You might get a little bit hotter, Malfoy." Higgs said, grinning, "It'll get to feel like your burning to death from the inside-out. You really will be, too. And it'll happen slowly. You might become delirious from heat long before the real pain starts - if you're lucky - cause what you're feeling now isn't half of it. And you'll end up literally bursting into flames ... some Muggles have referred to this poison's effects as 'spontaneous human combustion', since they don't recognise magical poisons, and some of our kind seem to think it's funny to do to them - your father, for example."  
  
"Yeah. I think I know what you're talking about, now." I said, staring at the ceiling, "And if memory serves, it's now too late to start working on an antidote?" I added, making the last line sound like a question.  
  
"That's right, yes." Higgs said, grinning victoriously, "You'll probably want to start writing your last will and testament while you're still lucid."  
  
"I've already written it. About three years ago." I noted, trying not to sound too calm, but still calm enough to be annoying - it's a difficult balance to strike.  
  
"Well, in that case - have a nice day, Malfoy." Higgs said in a truly cruel tone, before leaving me alone. I can't wait to see his reaction when I survive. I hope nothing bad happens to Snape, before he gets that antidote to me.  
  
* * *  
  
I woke up that afternoon, feeling a lot better. Snape was sitting next to me, holding an empty vial that must have contained the antidote. I must have been out of it when he gave it to me. "How are you feeling, now, Mr Malfoy?" Snape asked, looking genuinely concerned - not something you see often, on him.  
  
"Better." I said, sitting up, "You gave me the antidote?"  
  
"Yes. You came round a few seconds after I administered it," he replied.  
  
"I suggest you let me break the bad news to my poisoner." I said, grinning, "Does anyone else know I was even ill?"  
  
"It's a Saturday, so you haven't missed any classes." Snape said calmly, "I don't think anyone, beyond myself, Madam Pomfrey, Miss Parkinson, and the one responsible for your 'illness', knows anything more than that you had a bad dose of flu."  
  
"That's good. Let's keep it that way. If people knew it was that easy to poison me, I doubt there'd be any time lost on the part of a number of students I could name." I said, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed - I truly felt perfectly well, now. "Can I go, then?"  
  
"I am not authorised to let you leave here. That would be Madam Pomfrey's decision." he answered, "However, I don't see the problem in getting out of bed and stretching your legs."  
  
And at that moment, Madam Pomfrey came in, "Mr Malfoy - what do you think you are doing?"  
  
"Feeling better. Getting up. Hopefully leaving." I said, setting my feet down on the cool floor, letting the coldness comfort me, "I am all cured. Can I go, now?"  
  
Madam Pomfrey glared at me, but Snape spoke up, "The antidote I gave him works instantaneously. He should be in perfect health now, Madam Pomfrey." I nodded in agreement, and Madam Pomfrey relented to let me go. No one but a small group of Slytherins ever found out that I had been poisoned, and few beyond that even noticed that I had been in the Hospital Wing for one night.  
  
All in all, I think it was a good thing. I scared the crap out of Higgs, when I returned to the common room after he thought that I should have been dead. I got a lot of sympathy from all my friends. It didn't affect my Quidditch practice in the slightest. Yes, I think the benefits were almost worth it. I still plan to return the murder-attempt, eventually. And Malfoys don't make mistakes - if I decide to kill him, he will die. I'll probably just give him something painful and unsightly, though - not so many legal implications as killing him might bring up.  
  
* * *  
  
End of chapter 6 


	7. Enemies of the Heir, Beware

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's.  
  
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar.  
  
Chapter 7 - Enemies of the Heir, Beware  
  
That very night was Halloween. Pansy commented that I still looked a little flushed, but it wasn't half as bad as I'd been. The Feast was spectacular. Dumbledore had booked a troop of dancing skeletons for the entertainment ... probably because the ghosts - who, I'm told, usually provide the amusement factor at the party (they had done in my first year) - had all disappeared.  
  
It was a great night. The pumpkins were the size of small houses (very small, but a Weasley could happily live in one, if they got kicked out of their family home), and the highlight of the party (at least in my opinion, it was the funniest part) was when one of the skeletons tripped and fell off the stage, breaking into individual bones, which started dancing on their own.  
  
I did notice an absence of Potter, Weasley, Weaslette and Hermione. None of them appeared all evening. That didn't bother me ... at the time, anyway. Still, it wasn't as exciting as last year ... although I preferred this to the blind panic, it still wasn't as exciting. That is, until after the Feast.  
  
It's odd - I still don't know how it happened - but you do know that the corridors and stairways move. No matter what way we tried to take, it led us up to the second floor - we kept turning back, but the third time we found ourselves there, Theo suggested that we try to cut across and go down the far staircase.  
  
We found ourselves in a packed corridor and the crowd had stopped moving. "What's going on?" Theo asked.  
  
"Dunno. Can't see from here." I answered, "Crabbe, Goyle, make way for me to get through this." I said, pointing in the general direction of the front of the crowd. Crabbe and Goyle obediently began shoving people out of my way and soon I made it to the front. There I saw three Gryffindors - Potter, Weasley and Hermione - standing gawping at a wall, which had been decorated with red writing:  
  
'THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED  
  
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE'  
  
And what looked suspiciously like Mrs Norris, hung up by her tail from a torch bracket. Very cute - I always thought she deserved a good kicking, but that was going one better. I wondered if she was dead - considering the message, and my knowledge of certain unpleasant details to which the rest of the school had a noticeable lack of access, the answer was probably 'yes'.  
  
I then realised exactly what the implications of this were. The Chamber of Secrets has been opened - that means Tom is doing what he planned to do. Took him long enough to get started, but I'm not complaining about that. I looked at the three Gryffindors with perverse amusement - they might even get the blame for this. "Enemies of the Heir, beware!" I shouted, now looking specifically at Hermione, "You'll be next, Mudbloods!"  
  
I'm not sure if it was my shouting or (more likely) the large group of students clogging up the corridor, but Filch made his Squibly presence known at this moment. He shoved past me, asking, "What's going on here? What's going on?" I just stopped myself from laughing at the expression on his face when he spotted his precious Mrs Norris. "My cat! Mt cat!" he wailed, "What's happened to Mrs Norris?" then he spotted the student nearest the crime-scene - Potter, "You! You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll -"  
  
I was just enjoying the show - Potter being threatened by Filch was something I'd pay to see and here I was getting to watch it for free - when another voice made itself heard, "Argus!" I turned to see Dumbledore and some other teachers, across the corridor from me. I watched as Dumbledore took the foul feline down from her hanging place and turned to face the suspects and the victim-by-proxy, "Come with me, Argus. You too, Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, Miss Granger."  
  
He's going to take them away, to interrogate them where I can't watch ... no fair! Lockhart pranced over to Dumbledore, saying, "My office is nearest, Headmaster - just upstairs - please feel free -"  
  
"Thank you, Gilderoy." Dumbledore said in a way that I was certain was intended to mean 'do shut up, you babbling idiot'.  
  
I watched as they left, wondering how Lockhart could be so oblivious to the fact that almost everyone hates him. I also wondered where Weaslette was, and why no one had missed HER, when several people had commented on the absence of Potter and his gang.  
  
* * *  
  
When we got back to the common room, I went straight to the dorm and lay down - not bothering to change - and started to try to figure out what was going on.  
  
Theo appeared in the dorm, moments after me, "Draco." he said apprehensively.  
  
I looked up and gave him a look that says 'what?'  
  
"Umm. Every self-respecting Slytherin knows what the Chamber of Secrets is. Everyone knows it's meant to be Slytherin's Heir who opens it. And everyone also knows that Salazar Serpent-tongue Slytherin said his Heir would have his skills. Care to tell me if this is a coincidence?"  
  
"I assume you're referring to my sudden interest in learning a new language?" I asked, still looking up at Theo, who had now sat on the edge of his bed. He nodded. "It's not a coincidence." I said honestly.  
  
"Are you admitting -?"  
  
"No." I interrupted, "I am not admitting to being the Heir ... only that my sudden interest in Parseltongue is related to it. I've been expecting something like this and wanted to be prepared."  
  
"You've been expecting something like this? What's that mean?"  
  
"It means I've been aware of the Heir's intent to return to Hogwarts, since the start of the summer holidays, but I wasn't sure if he had actually made it here, or not."  
  
"So who is it?" Theo asked.  
  
"The same person as last time." I said, returning my gaze to the ceiling.  
  
"Who was it last time?" Theo persisted.  
  
"What other Parselmouth do we know of, who might be alive in this century?" I asked, staring intently at the stonework above me.  
  
"Not ... not You-Know-Who?"  
  
"Got it in one." I said, with a bemused smirk, "So, are you still against him?"  
  
"You have to ask? Duh - of course I'm still against him."  
  
"That's good." I said, frowning, "The problem is, I don't think I can do anything about it. He knows that I know He's here. He knows I know who He's using this time. If I start acting suspiciously, He'll catch on, and then all hell will break loose at my expense. If we're going to do anything, this year, we need to exercise a great deal of caution."  
  
"Who's He using this time?" Theo asked, perched on the edge of his bed like he might fall off at any second.  
  
"Little Weasley girl. I think. She was notably absent at the Feast."  
  
"She's not exactly the sort of person you'd think was working for Him. Then again, who'd have thought it was Quirrell, last year?"  
  
"I don't think she's a willing servant. She most likely doesn't know what she's doing. We ought to watch her ... except I can't, because she'll notice if I start snooping." I said, sitting up and turning to face Theo, "If you and the girls could watch her?" I said in a way that makes it sound like a question. Theo nodded. "And paying specific attention to the books she owns. A small black diary might be useful to get our hands on. Or at least, to get it away from her."  
  
"How's that work?" Theo asked.  
  
"The diary is the source of all her problems." I said cryptically.  
  
Then a knocking could be heard on our door. "Who's there?" Theo called, loud enough to be heard.  
  
"It's us." Blaise's voice said from beyond the door, "Cat and me."  
  
"Come in." I replied. The door opened and the two girls bolted inside, closing the door behind them, as quickly as humanly possible. "What's up?" I asked.  
  
"The Chamber of Secrets." Blaise said, "Cat went all weird when she saw the writing, and now she says she had a vision."  
  
"I did have a vision!" Cat snapped.  
  
"What was it?" I asked.  
  
"I suddenly knew ... it's some sort of rhyme." she said nervously, "I get these sorts of flashes - that's why I want to take Divination next year, because I think I might be a Seer."  
  
"What rhyme?" Theo asked.  
  
"Little red girl with a little black book and a demon in her soul, calls up deadly eyes and poisonous teeth that could swallow humans whole." Cat said, obviously concentrating on getting the wording exactly right.  
  
"That's news." I said sarcastically. Cat glared at me, "I mean, I already knew that." I said, suddenly on the defensive.  
  
"What's the monster, when it's at home?" Theo asked.  
  
"What are you boys on about?" Blaise interrupted.  
  
"Chamber of Secrets." I said calmly, "I know who's behind it. Same trouble-maker as last year. And Weasley-girl is the less-than-willing partner-in-crime."  
  
"How the ...? How'd you figure that?" Blaise asked.  
  
"I have my sources." I said, watching them both, "I say we watch Weasley-girl, and if possible, get the little black book Cat mentioned away from her. I can't do it myself, because He knows me."  
  
"This is not going to be fun." Blaise whined.  
  
"You think I enjoy it?" I asked, "What I'd give for a quiet life."  
  
* * *  
  
The very next day, Theo managed to get a detention from Filch, for loitering. And the day after that, Filch tried to give me a detention for looking happy ... well with Mrs Norris out of commission (apparently petrified, rather than dead), who'd not be relatively happy? The thing that surprised me was that Weaslette seemed to actually be upset about the incident - not what I had expected - I'd thought that she'd seem pleased. Then again, it could be an act - probably.  
  
Hermione could be found in the Library, every day, whenever she wasn't required to be in class. I didn't really bother with her, until Wednesday after Potions class. I had gone up to the Library to make a start on my Potions homework, when I spotted her. She was in the History section, when I settled myself down at a desk in the corner, where few could see me. Hermione, however, was one of the few - she spotted me and made her way over to my table.  
  
"What're you up to, Malfoy?" she asked.  
  
"Actually, at the moment, I'm only doing my Potions homework. I'm not up to anything particularly evil, today." I said, smirking.  
  
"Oh, no?" she asked, watching me, "I don't suppose you know anything about this Chamber of Secrets thing, do you?"  
  
"I know about it, yeah." I answered, "I'd suggest you ask a teacher about it - they might be able to tell you something."  
  
"Why can't you just tell me?" she asked, glaring.  
  
"I have my reasons." I said, now refusing to look at her, "Besides, considering that your looking in the History section ... how about asking someone who'd know about the History of the school?"  
  
"You're NOT helping." Hermione snarled.  
  
"Yes, I am. I just told you exactly how to find what you want to know." I said, frowning.  
  
"Yeah, right." she snapped, before returning to the shelves. I shook my head and made myself scarce - I didn't feel like hanging around when she was pissed off at me - gods only know why, but it makes me feel ... what's that word? - guilty ... when she's mad at me. I really don't understand it, myself ... I mean, I'm always pissing people off and never once have I felt bad about it, before.  
  
I spent the rest of the day wondering if she'd actually bothered to take my advice, or not. Probably not, considering the fact that she doesn't trust me, in the least.  
  
* * *  
  
I know that all Slytherins are always up to something ... but now it seems the same with the Gryffindors, too. Weaslette is obviously up to no good, even though she doesn't act like it. Then there are the Weasley twins - don't get me started on those two. And now the Terrific Trio are up to something, I just wish I knew what. I'd guess it's either something to do with the Chamber of Secrets, or they're trying to sabotage the Snakes-and-Lions Quidditch match - for all I know, it could be either.  
  
Speaking of Quidditch, the first match of the season approached with unnerving speed. I had barely gotten bored with Halloween's excitement, when the match was upon us. Of course, I was looking forward to it. The whole team was looking forward to the match, with sadistic glee - it was pretty much a foregone conclusion that we would run the Gryffindors into the ground.  
  
And the match itself. I really don't want to talk about it ... but I have to, don't I? It is part of the story, unfortunately.  
  
I saw the audience cheering the enemy, as I waited in the changing room. Then it was our turn to go out. Most of the crowd booed us, but I heard cheering from the quarter nearest us. I looked up at the Slytherin part of the crowd, to see all the second years cheering loudly, and jumping up and down in a most un-dignified manner that does not suit Slytherins. I also saw the higher box, where Snape usually sat ... he was there, but so was someone else ... my father had come to watch my first match. I considered that to be a good thing - he'd see me run Potter into the ground, like I'd planned.  
  
While I had been looking around, Flint and Wood had been ordered to shake hands - neither had been too friendly about that. And then, as I returned my attention to Madam Hooch, she blew the whistle that signalled the game was to begin.  
  
Potter flew up a little higher than was necessary, as if he thought that flying higher made him better ... he wishes. I shot past, underneath him, trying to attract his attention - as you do, if you want to make them think you're after the Snitch, to pull off the Wronski Feint - he didn't notice me, so I did the same again, this time yelling at him, "All right, there, Scarhead?"  
  
He looked down at me, but suddenly flew round in a different direction. I looked up to see that a Bludger had just missed him. Within minutes, the Weasley twins were circling around him trying to make the Bludger, that had focused itself on Potter, hit anyone in our team ... not with much success. I flew up a little higher and started searching for the Snitch, and trying not to let the three ridiculous-looking Lions distract me. I didn't care that the Bludger was obviously tampered with - probably Flint's doing, I thought - I certainly wouldn't put it past him.  
  
Then the rain started. I still couldn't see anything that looked like a Snitch, but our team was miles ahead, so there wasn't too much to worry about - there was no real chance of Potter seeing anything, and I was quite happily doing exactly what I was supposed to do, rather than messing around like he was.  
  
After another good few minutes, Gryffindor called a time-out. I made good use of this time, by trying to locate the Snitch. It seemed reluctant to show itself. I glanced at the box in the Slytherin area, seeing Father watching me intently. It always made me nervous when he watched me like that - it usually meant that if I made a mistake, I'd regret it.  
  
I decided to pay more attention to the game than the spectators, and noticed the Gryffindors taking off, again. The Beaters had left Potter alone, and he began flying around like a rabid Doxy, trying to keep away from the mad Bludger. To say it was funny to watch would be an understatement.   
  
As he passed close to me, I yelled out, "Training for the ballet, Potter?" I watched him speed off down the pitch, and couldn't help but laugh. It was ridiculous, really. He turned round to give me an angry glare, and sat still long enough for the Bludger to collide with his arm. He nearly fell off ... only nearly, unfortunately. Then, he dived, speeding towards me - I thought he might have lost control, or he might have thought the Bludger was my fault and was attacking me. I would kick myself when I realised that the Snitch had been right behind me ... I only realised this after I had swerved out of his way and watched, helplessly, as he caught the damned thing.  
  
Seriously pissed off might cover a microscopic fraction of how I felt at that moment, and I seriously hoped he'd break his neck when he hit the ground. Again, I was unlucky. He lived, and I have to be thankful for Lockhart, since he DID ruin Potter's victory ... I'm not exactly sure what he did, but Potter got stuck in the Hospital Wing for the night.  
  
* * *  
  
End of chapter 7 


	8. The Beatings Will Continue Until Moral I...

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's.  
  
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar.  
  
Jinx is based on reality. Jinx is mine. And just as described here, too.  
  
Chapter 8 - The Beatings Will Continue Until Moral Improves  
  
Gryffindor won by 80 points. I didn't want to land after that game. I didn't want to face Flint after making such a stupid mistake. I wanted, even less, to face Father after making such a stupid mistake. If Potter hadn't made such a spectacle of himself, I'd have been able to concentrate. Now, I think I've turned into a hypocrite - well, maybe not turned into, I already was, but that's not the point - I had called Higgs a bloody distractible idiot, and look what I just did ... damn it!  
  
I slowly floated down to the ground, noting Father's absence from the box he had been watching from. As soon as my feet touched the ground, Flint came up behind me and whacked me in the back of the head. It didn't really hurt, except for my pride, "You idiot!" he yelled in my ear. "How could you miss THAT? It wasn't exactly like you're unable to turn round, you twit!" and he whacked me in the back of the head, again.  
  
"Do not touch my son, Flint!" Father's voice came from my right and I turned to see him looking more than a little angry. "Yell all you want, but don't you dare touch him." he added in a much quieter and more dangerous tone.  
  
Flint looked suitably told-off and mumbled an incoherent apology.  
  
Father then turned to me, "Draco, I wish to speak with you ... alone," he said coldly, beckoning for me to follow him.  
  
He led me into a disused part of the Slytherin changing rooms, locked the door and cast a silencing spell around the whole room. I backed away from him, out of instinct - I could guess that he wasn't pleased, and when he is displeased bad things tend to happen.  
  
"Draco." he said, in the dangerously quiet voice that spells trouble, "I thought you told me that you were a competent Seeker."  
  
"I am." I replied immediately, "I was just ... distracted."  
  
"I noticed. I thought that you were above making such trivial mistakes. You let your guard down to mock a rival. Would it not have been more prudent to - this is a novel suggestion - catch the Snitch and make your rival look like an idiot, instead of making yourself look like one?"  
  
"I - I'm sorry, Father." I said fearfully.  
  
"I should hope so." he snarled, "You know what happens when you make such a foolish mistake." I took another step back, now certain what he would do next. He stepped forward, took out his wand and touched it to my shoulder, "I am very disappointed in you, Draco." he said, in a voice that almost sounded sad - that almost showed an emotion other than anger ... almost. "Crucio."  
  
The curse wasn't strong ... by its standards, anyway (Cruciatus works directly on the mind and is capable of causing a level pain the physical body can't even experience). I've been given worse, in the past. It still felt like my insides were being ripped apart by an angry Chimera. I told you before, I know how to deal with pain ... this is why. I bit my lip and stood through the curse ... as I said, it was VERY mild for Cruciatus - he'd never given me more than a tenth of the full curse, and this was weaker than I was used to. It ended after a few seconds, and I opened my eyes to see Father was glaring at me. I felt I ought to say something, "I didn't mean to -"  
  
"Silence." he interrupted. "I do understand the definition of the word 'mistake'. I know you would never have dared do such a stupid thing deliberately - if you had, I would not be so lenient with you. I am simply trying to teach you not to let your guard down." I couldn't look him in the eye, but I stood my ground, anyway. "If I find that I have wasted my money to get you on this team ... if you fail to prove yourself ... if you make another stupid, careless mistake ... you will feel what the Cruciatus really is. Is that clear?" I nodded, trying not to show the fear I felt. "Good. Now, just remember - this is nothing to what will happen if you fail again. Crucio." and again, the pain ripped through me, worse than the last time, but I was still able to stand through it. After a second, it was gone and all I felt was the echo of the pain. "I will not tolerate failure, Draco. Do not fail again."  
  
I nodded silently, and watched as he left the room. As soon as he was gone, I collapsed on the seat behind me. I was used to this, by now. He always expected perfection - I had to live up to a standard that even he could never reach - when I fail ... well, you know what happened. He would never think of hitting me - never use a physical curse ... if he did that, people might see the bruises. He has a reputation to maintain, and the family name means everything to him ... and who would believe me, if I said he'd used an Unforgivable curse on his own son? All that would get me would be a stronger dose of the curse, for my troubles. Besides, in spite of these punishments, I still feel a desperate need to achieve the goals he sets for me - to make him proud of me ... it doesn't make sense, because I despise so many of his beliefs ... but he IS my father.  
  
Just as I was about to stand, to leave, I heard a snapping noise to my right. I looked up, startled, to see the last thing I expected ... Dobby.  
  
"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked, glaring at the elf.  
  
"Master Lucius is bringing Dobby with him to Hogwarts, sir." Dobby said, cringing, "Dobby is trying to help Master Draco."  
  
"How?" I asked suspiciously.  
  
"Master Draco is wanting Harry Potter away from Hogwarts. Dobby is trying to have Harry Potter sent home, sir."  
  
I frowned, before deliberately imitating the elf's speech-pattern, "And how is Dobby doing that?"  
  
"Dobby is trying to have Harry Potter sent home, from non-fatal injuries, sir," the elf said, still cringing.  
  
I looked up, straight at the elf. He had better not mean what I think he means ... for his sake, "Do you mean to tell me that YOU were the one who fixed the Bludger that went after Potter?" I asked very quietly. Dobby nodded, squeaking. I think he recognised the dangerous tone in my voice. "Do you realise that your little stunt distracted me, made me lose the game and earned me another punishment?" I asked coldly. Dobby squeaked, again. I stood up, glaring at the elf. I couldn't believe anything could be THAT incompetent ... even Longbottom is more useful that this. I kicked the elf off the chair he had been standing on and took out my wand, "You are a house elf ... you are a slave ... that means you do what you are told ... you are NOT meant to take the initiative ... is that understood?" I asked, my voice rising until I was almost shouting. Dobby picked himself up and nodded fearfully. I waved my wand at one of the old school brooms, and it proceeded to beat the elf around the head, occasionally poking him in the stomach, or tripping him. It was fun to watch for about two minutes … then I got bored. I stopped the broom, letting it drop back into the storage locker. "You will not do something like that again, without being ordered to ... understand?"  
  
Dobby squeaked, "Yes, sir. Dobby is very sorry, sir."  
  
"So you damned well should be!" I snapped. "Now go away. Get out of my sight!"  
  
* * *  
  
Flint found me the moment I left the changing rooms. I pretty much tried to ignore him. He was making the most of the fact that my father gave him permission to yell at me. I managed to get away from him in the common room. I could then be found sitting on my bed with the curtains closed. I'd not been punished by that curse for almost two years ... not that I could ever forget what it feels like, but I had thought - hoped - that maybe I was good enough for his standards, now ... that he didn't think I needed it, anymore. Hah - that's just the sort of naiveté that earns punishment - letting my guard down, as he referred to it. I really hadn't expected him to be bold enough to punish me, here. I thought there was an alarm in the school that detected uses of the Unforgivables ... either I was wrong, or it's only on the castle itself. I guess I should pay more attention to rule 93: 'Always keep your eyes and ears open - trouble will strike the moment you let your guard down'.  
  
Speaking of which ... "Draco? I know you're in there." Theo's voice sounded from the general direction of the door.  
  
"What d'you want? Go away." I replied.  
  
As usual, he didn't listen. I heard footsteps, crossing the room towards me, and stopping right next to my bed. "What's the matter?" he asked. At least he had the decency to leave the curtains where I had them.  
  
"None of your business." I snapped.  
  
"Unless you tell me what's wrong, I am going to have to hex your homework, again."  
  
"So it was YOU!" I snapped, pulling back the curtain, "I will kill you!"  
  
Theo sniggered, "Yeah, sure ... admit it, Lockhart loved it."  
  
I glared, "And he nearly gave me another detention for it, too. I had been working on ruining his sanity, without getting in trouble, and you messed it all up."  
  
"Yeah, yeah." he said, smirking. He froze for a fraction of a second, then his smirk turned into a ridiculous grin, "WHAT is THAT?" he asked, pointing over my shoulder.  
  
I turned round, and ... (O.K. - I'm going to have to tell you about this, aren't I? I had hoped to get away without mentioning it in this story) ... saw the object I had been holding when Theo had first entered the room. I froze, staring at it. Damn. "That is not supposed to be there." I muttered.  
  
"You - Draco Malfoy - have a TEDDY BEAR!" Theo asked incredulously.  
  
"Shhh! I don't want everyone to find out!" I hissed.  
  
"I'll bet." Theo said, his eyes wide with shocked amusement, "Where'd it come from?"  
  
I glared at him for a few minutes, and then reached for the small jet-black teddy bear. "I've had it since I was five." I said coldly.  
  
"And you brought it to school with you?" he asked.  
  
"Yes." I muttered, holding the stuffed-bear by both paws and glaring into its beady eyes, "It's supposed to disappear when anyone else enters the room." I said, almost as much to it as to Theo.  
  
"Why? How?"  
  
"Father didn't think I should have something like this ... thought it would be a sign of weakness. Mother bought it for me and charmed it to disappear when anyone I didn't trust was around." I looked up at Theo, "Either the charm is malfunctioning, or I trust you more than I thought."  
  
"I'm flattered." Theo said, his lip twitching in a way that could only mean that he was fighting not to laugh.  
  
I held the cuddly-animal tight against my chest, and deliberately - purely to see his reaction - gave a petulant glare at Theo - the sort a five-year-old-with-a-teddy might. He couldn't stop himself from laughing at that. "I don't see what's so funny." I said, forcing myself to keep a straight face - I could see, damned well, what he thought was so funny.  
  
"Draco Malfoy has a teddy bear." Theo said, fighting the laughter down to mild giggling, "That is priceless. And why, prey tell, were you cuddling Mr Fuzzums, anyway?" he asked, in the most condescending small-children-and-mental-patients voice he could.  
  
"That is none of your business." I snapped defensively. "And its name is Jinx."  
  
Theo choked, "I was kidding ... I didn't realise you'd actually NAMED it!" he said, shaking from the effort not to laugh, "Where'd you come up with a name like that, anyway?"  
  
I glared at him, and he stopped sniggering, "Promise not to laugh at this?"  
  
"No way - I can NOT promise that." he responded, trying not to laugh even as he said it.  
  
I rolled my eyes, "I was five when I got this." I said, nodding at Jinx, "And the day I got it, Mother took me to a Quidditch match. It was the Falcons vs the Cannons. I always supported the Falcons - their motto was what sealed the deal, really." Theo nodded in agreement, as I said this, "But you might not remember ... the '85 Falcons-Cannons match was the only time the Cannons ever beat them." he frowned, obviously not remembering, "Well it was. I decided this -" again, I nodded to the teddy, "- was a jinx on Quidditch games, and that's what I called it - Jinx." On receiving a blank look, I repeated, "I was only five."  
  
"So why'd you bring it to school, when you're playing on the Quidditch team?" Theo asked.  
  
"I was only five when I named it!" I repeated, again, "I know better now. And besides, if it was really a jinx on Quidditch matches, it'd need to actually attend the match."  
  
Theo snorted again, "You amaze me. How can you sit there, hugging a teddy bear, and still look like you own the damned school?"  
  
"It's a gift." I said acidly, "And you seem to be forgetting something."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Slytherin Code of Conduct - rule 57: 'Of all the Slytherins you will ever meet, there is one who you should fear above all others. And that is the Slytherin Who Still Has A Cuddly Animal And Is Not Afraid To Show It'."  
  
Theo stared at me, "You are kidding. Please tell me you're joking."  
  
"No - that really is in the rule-list." I said, smirking.  
  
Theo raised an eyebrow sceptically, then shrugged, "I have a stuffed-toy of a Cerberus at home, but I don't have the nerve to bring it to school with me," he admitted.  
  
I smirked, "Really?" he nodded, and I had to ask, "What's it called?"  
  
He stared at me with the rabbit-in-headlights look that plainly said the animal did have a name, "Umm ... what you have to understand about that ... I was TWO when I got it. I just haven't been able to throw it out, is all ... really."  
  
"Yeah, right. What's it called?" I repeated, with true sadism.  
  
"Paws." he muttered, not looking at me.  
  
I would have laughed if I hadn't put my hand over my mouth, "You're kidding." I mumbled, fighting down the instinct to point at him and laugh in his face, "Is there any name less fitting a Cerberus than that?"  
  
"Umm ... Fluffy?" he suggested hopefully.  
  
I did laugh this time, nodding in the absence of any ability to speak through the laughter.  
  
"You can't laugh at me ... you're the one who brought their stuffed-toy to school with them." Theo snapped.  
  
"Fine, whatever." I muttered, "I just can't imagine the name Fluffy going with a creature like that."  
  
"Neither could I ... that's why I called it Paws." and we both fell into hysterics. I had totally forgotten about the reason why I had been (I hate to say the word but I do have to, don't I?) hugging Jinx, that day. I didn't think about it again, for quite a while.  
  
It is a good thing to have a friend with some brains ... and no sense of when to leave well enough alone ... isn't it?  
  
* * *  
  
End of chapter 8 


	9. Some People Learn Their Skills

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's.  
  
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar.  
  
Chapter 9 - Some People Learn Their Skills...  
  
That night, after the Two Twits were asleep, I was still lying awake, trying to picture where Theo had come up with the concept of anyone being daft enough to call a Cerberus Fluffy. I heard a noise behind me, and looked up at the blank stone wall. Something was there but I couldn't see it. I sat up and checked the wall, hoping to find out what was there. It wasn't any colder than usual, so it couldn't be a ghost in the wall. I frowned, listening, as the noise moved upwards. It sounded like hissing ... like a snake. I really wished I had read more of that Parseltongue book, now, but it didn't seem to want to teach me.  
  
"Theo." I whispered.  
  
"Wha?" came the muffled response. I'm glad he's such a light sleeper - I didn't want to interrupt the snore-fest at the far end of the room.  
  
"Hear that?" I asked.  
  
A pause, then, "It's nothing - burst water-pipe or something - go back to sleep."  
  
"No." I said, adamantly, "I'm sure it's a snake. I haven't gotten as far as understanding very much but -" I paused, as I actually recognised one of the hisses ... 'hungry' ... "It's definitely a snake, Theo - I just recognised a word."  
  
"What word?"  
  
"'Hungry'."  
  
"So? It's probably just some castle-vermin, looking for some castle-rodents." Theo said, stifling a yawn.  
  
"I guess." I replied, not entirely convinced.  
  
* * *  
  
The next morning, however, the hyperactive rumour-mill was working on the fastest spread they'd ever pulled off - by the end of breakfast, everyone knew that Colin Creepy Creevy had been petrified. The Heir of Slytherin strikes again. And I just happened to hear a snake in the walls, last night ... coincidences are just a fool's way of explaining what they can't connect - I do not believe in coincidences. Especially when I KNOW that the monster is a Basilisk - a type of snake, specifically the King of Serpents - and this is not a good situation.  
  
Cat, Blaise, Theo, and I all made our way outside, towards the edge of the lake. We sat down on a dry spot of grass and Theo was first to speak, "Your snake did it - right?"  
  
"First off - it's not MINE. But, yes." I answered, noting the girls' confused expression. I smirked evilly at them, "I have been trying - with next-to-no success - to teach myself to speak Parseltongue." shocked doesn't quite cover it - and Blaise looked afraid of me, now. "I know I heard a snake last night and I'd bet anything that it was what petrified Creepy."  
  
"How'd you figure that one?" Cat asked.  
  
"Because certain giant magical snakes with deadly venom also have the innate ability to kill you by looking at you ... I'm not sure how Creepy and the cat got away with mere petrification, to be honest." I said, in an attempt to sound cryptic.  
  
"What sort of -" Blaise started, but Cat interrupted.  
  
"Basilisk." she answered Blaise's unfinished question.  
  
"That would be right, yes." I said calmly.  
  
"But ... I don't get it ... how would something like that get around the school?" Cat asked.  
  
"We heard it in the walls." Theo noted, before I could say it.  
  
"I'm not going anywhere on my own, from now on." Blaise muttered, before looking fearfully at me, "And you ... you're learning snake-language ... do you know how evil that is? You'll get like Him, one day, if you keep it up."  
  
"Hah!" I replied, pouring as much irony as possible into the one syllable, "I can't even get the damned book to let me learn from it - the chances of my turning into an evil-snake-tongued-git are minimal ... I'll just have to be satisfied with being an evil-git."  
  
"Right." Theo said, in the tone that means to say 'you're nuts, but I'll agree with you for the sake of a relatively easy life'.  
  
"So why don't we tell someone what we know about this?" Cat asked.  
  
"I plead the fifth." I said nervously.  
  
"How would you manage to incriminate yourself, if you told?" Theo asked edgily.  
  
"Not myself. I'd either get someone else, close to me, in trouble ... or I'd end up regretting the day I was born, if said someone else finds out who ratted on their evil scheme." I said, carefully trying not to give away too much.  
  
Unfortunately, Blaise was an observant girl, "Your father? He's behind this?"  
  
I stared at her (as did Theo and Cat) for a few seconds, before saying, "Technically ... there's no conclusive evidence to incriminate him, but if I was the one to report it - and they would undoubtedly ask how I'd figured it out - no Auror worth a Weasley would let me go without getting the truth out of me, and then ... there would be trouble."  
  
"So we can't go to the authorities, because you're afraid of getting your dad in trouble?" Theo asked, "But if he's the one who's behind it, why protect him?"  
  
"I can't betray him." I whispered, looking down at the ground, then I looked up at them, "And you can't tell anyone, either. I told you this in confidence - right?"  
  
They all nodded. "So what do we do about it?" Blaise asked, "I mean, telling the teachers is the best thing to do, really. So what's second best - Draco, you tell us, since you chose to take away our safest option for us." she said, in a vicious tone.  
  
"Well, for a start, if you hear anything unusual - specifically hissy or slithery - run away, or if you must look, use a mirror. It's the same principle as a Gorgon - the mirror will stop its gaze from killing you." I said calmly, "It shouldn't come to that, though - the monster is only supposed to attack Mudbloods and Squibs."  
  
"Is that it?" Theo asked, surprised, "Self-protection? What about making sure the school doesn't get closed down, or Snake-Lover doesn't come back, or whatever other nefarious schemes He might have planned?"  
  
"Self-protection is a priority." I said coldly, "But if you want to play hero, stalking the Weasley-girl and trying to deprive her of her diary would be the best solution."  
  
Blaise snorted, "You are a coward, Draco," she said coldly.  
  
Cat, meanwhile, had developed a smirk that could only mean she was plotting something, "Guys ... aren't we forgetting something, here?"  
  
"What?" we all asked.  
  
"Well, there is a threat within the castle. We are supposedly the house in the know about it. Rule number 28: 'even in the worst of times, someone turns a profit - make sure it's you'. I suggest we start conning people into buying 'protective' trinkets at exorbitant prices," she said, her eyes glittering at the thought of a profitable scheme.  
  
"What, prey tell, might these trinkets be?" Theo asked, getting into the idea.  
  
"Anything, really. Anything that can claim to have protective powers over any form of monster. Anything from amulets to ward off demons, to pieces of animals retrieved from Potions class which would just smell." Cat said, grinning.  
  
"That's a good idea." Blaise said, seeming to like the concept, "I know where we can get the amulet sort of thing very cheap. Double or triple the price, and we've got ourselves a nice little enterprise, here."  
  
I shook my head sadly, "You three are incorrigible. You realise this really IS the worst of times? If this keeps up, the school will have to close down."  
  
"I know, but better be packed off to Beauxbatons with some money, than flat-broke." Cat said bluntly.  
  
* * *  
  
That evening, I took my Parseltongue book and ventured out of the common room, weaving through the dungeon corridors, until I found the tapestry of Salazar Slytherin, himself. I slipped behind it and into a small room that resembled a study. I only knew about this room because Father had told me about it. No one else knows about it, as far as I know.  
  
I opened the book to the first page and looked down at it, "Please." I whispered, "I need to know. It's important. If I know, maybe I can help, somehow." who am I kidding? I already know enough to help and I won't for fear of my father. Still, it seemed to work. Very slowly and reluctantly, the book started to let me read it properly - started to let me actually learn what it had to teach.  
  
I went back there every night, for a couple of hours each time. After nearly three weeks, I had read five chapters, which was much better progress than I had been making before.  
  
Then, on Friday, as I was leaving Lockhart's classroom (having set one of the paintings of Lockhart on fire, causing the real Lockhart to run around in circles squealing desperate pleas of "Do any of you know any fire-extinguishing charms?" and "Help, help, fire, fire!" while the painted version of himself ran off into another painting of himself, and started discussing all his greatest achievements, in a sickening way that made me wonder when the two painted Lockharts were going to start challenging each other to arm-wrestling or duelling, to prove which one was better at being Lockhart) when I was confronted by a pair of identical Weasleys. The evil twins loomed over me, with equal glares on their faces.  
  
I tried to pass them, but they deliberately stood in my way, and when I tried to shove past, one of them grabbed my arm and the other one pointed a wand at me, "What do you two want?" I snarled.  
  
"We want an explanation." the one with the wand said.  
  
"And maybe a confession." the other one added.  
  
"What are you two on about? And while we're at it, what are you on?" I asked angrily.  
  
"Ha, ha." the one holding my arm said sarcastically.  
  
"Come on." the other said, turning and walking down the corridor. The one who was holding my arm walked off after him, continuing to hold my arm ... effectively dragging me with them.  
  
We didn't go far, before they dragged me into a disused classroom and closed the door. "Right." the Weasley with the wand said, pointing it at me threateningly. "Tell us what you were doing in the secret room in the lower dungeons, for the last week."  
  
"What are you talking about?" I asked, trying to sound innocent.  
  
"Don't play dumb with us, Malfoy." the twin who was still holding my arm said, "We know you were there. What were you up to?"  
  
I looked up at them both, for a moment. I was outnumbered - they were both older than me and both physically stronger. I actually had been where they think I was and I had no idea if they were bluffing or not. And most importantly, one of them was pointing a wand in my face - never argue with the point of a wand. Best to admit to being there. "I was reading." I said coldly.  
  
"You made the long journey from your common room all the way down there, every night, just to read?" Weasley-with-wand asked incredulously.  
  
"Pu-lease." the other one said, "Just admit it, Malfoy. You're the one behind these attacks and that secret room leads to the Chamber, somehow."  
  
I actually laughed. I was being threatened at wand-point by two older students, and I laughed. I did regain my composure quickly, but didn't stop smiling - it was funny, "You think I'm the Heir of Slytherin?" I asked, snorting with suppressed laughter, "Yeah, right. I am the Heir to precisely one thing - the Malfoy family fortune." I grinned at the glares they gave me for that - they only hate me because they're jealous ... well, that and our families have hated each other for generations, but I think it was started because of jealousy.  
  
"Prove you're not the Heir of Slytherin." Weasley-holding-my-arm said.  
  
I gave them a look that said they were crazy, before saying, "If I was the Heir of Slytherin, I would not be putting up with this, from a pair of Gryffindor Mudblood-lovers like you." which reminds me, where are my personal body-guards when I need them? "And why were you two spying on me, anyway?"  
  
"We weren't spying on you, specifically." Weasley-with-wand said, seeming to go on the defensive, now. "We just happened to notice you there, where and when you shouldn't be."  
  
"And let's face it, you're the most likely suspect for attacking Muggle-borns, considering how much you don't like them." Weasley-holding-my-arm added.  
  
"I'm flattered." I said acidly, "People start getting attacked by magic that even Dumbledore couldn't undo, and you're blaming me. I didn't know you thought so highly of my abilities. I couldn't even get one measly teacher knocked off, last year, and you're treating me like a master criminal. Thank you."  
  
"Which teacher'd you try to kill?" Weasley-holding-my-arm asked.  
  
"Quirrell." I said calmly.  
  
"Why?" Weasley-with-wand asked.  
  
"Because I had a personal grudge against the turban. It clashed with his robes." I answered. Technically, it was true - I did have a personal grudge against the turban (its inhabitant, to be specific) and the turban did clash horribly with his robes.  
  
They looked at each other, and then back to me, "You are kidding, right?" Weasley-holding-my-arm said.  
  
"No. It is true." I said calmly, "But I failed - Potter killed him off, instead. Perfect Potter always has to play the hero."  
  
"You tried to kill off Quirrell? The residence-of-evil?" Weasley-holding-my-arm asked, truly unbelieving.  
  
"I never said I knew about that when I tried to have him killed off." I said, trying to maintain some air of being the bad-guy in this picture, "I told you, I just took a dislike to his fashion-sense - or lack thereof."  
  
"Uh huh." Weasley-with-wand said, backing away from me as if thinking I was insane and said insanity was contagious. "We'll be watching you, Malfoy."  
  
"We still don't trust you." the other Weasley said, letting go of my arm and also backing towards the door.  
  
I watched as they left me on my own. I had better watch it, then. I bet they're not the only people who suspect me. I mean, one of my best friends asked me if I was the Heir, so I must be up there on the suspect list. Good thing I'm innocent, then, isn't it?  
  
* * *  
  
After that, I stopped sneaking out. I started putting up a silencing charm around myself and pulling the curtains around me, in the dorm, and reading there, instead. No one dared disturb me.  
  
I'm not doing very well with the Parseltongue book, either. It still only teaches me to recognise certain words and phrases and won't let me learn to speak most of it. So far, I can only say 'please don't bite me' ... which, I'll admit, could be useful, but it's still not what I had hoped for when I'd started reading it. Maybe Father said he couldn't be bothered with it because it was so much trouble, rather than from any lack of desire to learn it.  
  
I found out that all five Weasleys currently in education were staying for the holidays. The news got to me through the usual channels - Gryffindor-Patil talks to her Ravenclaw sister, who tells a bunch of other Ravenclaws, who then spread it, eventually to the Slytherin girls, and Cat and/or Blaise tell me. This time it was Cat - I think Blaise is afraid of me, since I told them I was trying to learn Parseltongue.  
  
But I decided that if Weaslette would be staying at Hogwarts, then so would I. Therefore, I signed the list for staying over the holidays. Hadn't I said I'd spend Christmas at Hogwarts, this year, anyway? I know I told you - after that horrendous Christmas party Father threw, last year. I had several reasons to stay here.  
  
After a particularly disastrous Potions class (in which someone had sabotaged Goyle's potion, in extra-ordinary style, and I am sure the antidote didn't work on me completely), we were congregated in the common room. My three intelligent-non-stalker friends (Theo, Blaise and Cat) were sitting in a corner, muttering excitedly. I tried to approach them but the girls turned their backs, deliberately telling me that I wasn't welcome in their conversation. I shrugged and resorted to insulting Gormless Goyle.  
  
"I know you're stupid, Goyle, but were you trying to impersonate Longbottom?" I asked, exasperated.  
  
"Wasn't me." Goyle answered, "Someone threw a firework."  
  
I shook my head, in an exasperatedly condescending way, "You know, I think you've actually got some ability to think. If you could work that out from Snape's reaction, I guess you're not totally hopeless."  
  
He gave me a blank look, but Crabbe said, "Snape thinks it's Potter."  
  
"No duh." I replied, mildly surprised that he had been that observant, "I doubt anyone else would be brave and stupid enough to try a stunt like that right under Snape's nose." speaking of noses, I subconsciously rubbed my own nose, which I'd swear hadn't returned to it's normal size after the incident. "Wish Snape had proof, then Potter'd get expelled." I added.  
  
"There's a rumour." Pansy said, sitting herself down next to me, "Says Potter's the Heir of Slytherin."  
  
"Hah! As if!" I laughed, "If Potter was the Heir of anything, he'd be the Heir of Suicidal Tendencies."  
  
Now several other Slytherins laughed, too. Goyle then spoke up, "So who is Slytherin's Heir?"  
  
"Yeah, some of the Gryffindors - the ones loyal to Potter - seem to think it's you, Draco." Pansy added.  
  
"I sort of noticed. The evil twins, Weasley-and-Weasley, tried to get me to confess, the other day." I said, with a smirk.  
  
"But who is it, really?" Crabbe asked.  
  
"How the Hell should I know?" I asked, "It's not like I'm omnipotent ... I'd like to be, but I'm not. All I could tell you is that the Heir's not going to stop at a couple of petrifications."  
  
"Oooo ... cryptic." Pansy said, grinning, "You do know more."  
  
"Yeah, but I don't know who it is." I said, carefully looking her in the eyes and forcing myself not to blink - I am a good liar - I learned from the best (Father) and improved on his technique.  
  
* * *  
  
End of chapter 9 


	10. Others Are Born With It

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's.  
  
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar.  
  
Chapter 10 - Others Are Born With It  
  
After another two weeks, and the unpleasant discovery that Potter and Hermione would both be staying the holidays as well (is she actually suicidal? All the other Mudbloods were going home, like sane people), a notice appeared in the Entrance Hall. I was one of the first to see it, and decided it was a good idea. I immediately returned to the common room and made the announcement to everyone. It seemed pretty unanimous that this was something worth investigating. A duelling club. If an opportunity for something you want presents itself ... take it - duh. So the entire Slytherin house made a point of being at the right place, at the right time, to attend said duelling club. So did most of the rest of the school.  
  
The word 'disappointment' doesn't cover it. Of all the teachers in the school who might have been able to teach a duelling club (Flitwick, Snape, Sinistra, or maybe even Kettleburn or Dumbledore), it had to be the last one any sane person would want to learn to duel from ... Lockhart.  
  
As Lockhart prattled, I found Theo, "Hey - why have you three been avoiding me?" I whispered.  
  
"Look at it this way - you're the only source of information we have on the Heir, and you're also one of the top two suspects in the school." Theo responded, in a barely audible (over Lockhart's yammering) whisper, "Do the math - you're going to have to prove that you're telling us the truth."  
  
"I thought you trusted me?" I asked.  
  
"I do." He whispered, "But the girls don't, and I'm not going to alienate them in case they tell someone about our little escapade last year."  
  
"Good point." I muttered, and left him alone in favour of standing next to the three people everyone seems to think I trust.  
  
I returned my attention to the soon-to-be-lunatic-when-I've-finished-with-him, just in time to hear him saying, "I don't want any of you youngsters to worry - you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"  
  
"Kinda hope we don't have a DADA teacher, after Snape's through with him." I whispered.  
  
Pansy glanced at me and asked, "What do you have against DADA teachers?"  
  
"So far, it's just personal ... but I don't believe in coincidences, so there must be some connection, there." I replied, "Probably the subject attracts teachers I don't like, because I don't like the subject."  
  
"You think too much, Draco." Pansy said.  
  
"It's all relative - someone needs to think to make up for those two." I noted, indicating Crabbe and Goyle.  
  
"Indeed." she muttered, turning her attention back to the stage.  
  
I looked back in that direction, just in time to hear Snape yell, "Expelliarmus!" and send Lockhart flying across the room, making him lose his wand and nearly be embedded in the far wall, in the process.  
  
I heard Theo yelling, "Whoow! Yeah - gettim!" and I, along with most of the Slytherins (and a few - very few - from other houses), cheered as well.  
  
Unfortunately, Lockhart survived and picked himself up, unsteadily. He now had my full attention, since he was being beaten up by my favourite teacher. "Well, there you have it! That was a Disarming Charm - as you see, I've lost my wand -"  
  
"Also works on knives, swords and any other hand-held weapons." I whispered to Pansy who seemed to be more interested in my commentary than Lockhart's.  
  
"- excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was pretty obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you, it would have been only too easy. However, I felt it would be instructive to let them see ..." Lockhart paused his prattle, as he finally recognised the homicidal glare Snape had been giving him for about five minutes now, and decided to take a different direction, "Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me ..."  
  
I watched apprehensively, as Lockhart moved through the crowd, splitting them into pairs, heading in my direction. I had planned on using this as another opportunity to test the limits of the man's sanity ... "Mr Malfoy!" but Snape called me, before Lockhart got too close, "Come over here. Let's see what you make of the famous Potter." Oh, even better. I walked up to my rival, while Snape ruined Milli's day by pairing her with Hermione (or was that the other way around? I'm not sure). Potter glared at me with all the hatred he could muster, so when I smirked it must have pissed him off.  
  
Lockhart had returned to his little stage, once everyone was paired up, "Face your partners!" he called, in a voice that could make the most self-controlled among us want to kill him, "And bow!" It's strange how we both managed to make it look like we'd made an effort to bow to each other (nodding our heads really doesn't count, but no one seemed to care), while still maintaining a staring contest. "Wands at the ready!" Lockhart called, and everyone in the Hall (except Lockhart and Snape) raised their wands in a fighting stance, "When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponent - ONLY to disarm them - we don't want any accidents." Don't we? Who said it'd be an accident, anyway? And besides, rule 85: 'never start on three, two is a much better substitute'. "One ... two ..."  
  
"Evertestatis!"  
  
"... three!"  
  
Potter stumbled backwards, like he'd just been hit by a Bludger to the head. I thought that curse threw its victims over backwards until they fell flat on their face ... maybe I need more practice. I certainly need to learn to stay alert - I was just about to start laughing at him, when ... "Rictusempra!" ... that was a laughing curse and I didn't have time to dodge it. I doubled over, now trying my best not to laugh ... talk about irony, huh?  
  
"I said DISARM ONLY!" Lockhart yelled over the noise that everyone in that Hall seemed to be making. Oh, go to Hell, you pompous git.  
  
I fell to the ground, laughing like a hyena overdosing on nitrous oxide. Well, Lockhart, this curse certainly seems disarming, don't you think? No. I tried to stop the laughter, but when I did I started to see stars and felt like I might pass out. Bad idea. I stopped trying to fight it and focused on retaliation. I forced myself up from the ground, onto my knees, and raised my wand. The tricky part was breathing and speaking at the same time, while still laughing uncontrollably. I managed to gasp out the word, "Tarantallegra!" - the Dancing Hex - which at least forced Potter to look like as much of an fool as I did while under this curse.  
  
Still, neither of us compared to Lockhart, in the looking-like-a-fool stakes. He was running around desperately yelling, "Stop! Stop!"  
  
We were lucky there was a competent teacher there, really. Snape took control of the situation with one of the simplest spells there is, "Finite Incantatem!"  
  
The laughing stopped and I immediately took the opportunity to breathe properly, again. Then, after a few deep breaths, I looked up to see the chaos that had been wreaked in the Hall. Almost everyone had stopped moving, most were also gasping for breath, I don't want to know what Weasley's broken wand did to that poor boy he was paired with, but Hermione and Milli were still fighting - Milli had Hermione in a headlock and was trying to use this as a method of decapitation. I stifled a snigger - I really did not feel like laughing, right now - as I watched Potter try to break up the one-sided fight, when Milli was almost twice his size.  
  
"Dear, dear." Lockhart said, in a tone that was supposed to mean he was upset, but he still managed to sound cheery and self-satisfied, even now. He went around the Hall checking that no one was seriously injured ... though how Terry Boot got that nose-bleed, I really don't know (there's not many curses that have that effect on someone). "I think I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells." Lockhart said, nervously glancing at Snape, who managed to intimidate him into looking away again within a second. "Let's have a volunteer pair - Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you?"  
  
"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," Snape said, in a tone that makes it obvious how little he thought the term 'Professor' suited the man, "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley up to the Hospital Wing, in a matchbox." and he cares, why? But then he answered that question for me, "How about Malfoy and Potter?" that sounds like an excellent idea - I'm sure the fact that he hates Potter, and knows I hate him too, has nothing to do with that choice (sarcasm isn't a strong enough word to cover that, is it?).  
  
"Excellent idea!" Lockhart cheered, waving for us to move into the middle of the Hall. Other students made way for us ... although I noticed they left a wider berth for Potter, in what seemed to me like a way of showing they respected him enough to do so where they didn't for me ... or was I really getting paranoid about him? Snape stood behind me, and Lockhart next to Potter. Lockhart then said, "Now, Harry, when Draco points his wand at you, you do this." and he waved his wand around, and dropped it on the ground. I had trouble not laughing, but as I noted earlier - I had had enough laughing for the week. "Whoops - my wand is a little over-excited." I actually had to bite my lip to stop from saying something rude in response to that - he was asking for it, really, but I wasn't going to degrade him in public - best to let him think it's all in his head, that way he'll go insane faster.  
  
Snape took a step closer to me, leaned forward and whispered in my ear, "Even if he manages to pull it off, in spite of Lockhart, that charm won't protect him from something like - say - a snake-summoning spell." A snake-summoning spell - that was third-year magic ... how did Snape know I already knew that one? And why did he suggest that spell, specifically? Did it matter? It'd make a total idiot out of Potter, so I wasn't arguing with this suggestion.  
  
I turned a you're-in-for-it-now smirk on Potter, who responded to this by asking Lockhart, "Professor, could you show me that blocking thing again?"  
  
He'll not be able to do any better than that, Potter - Lockhart is useless, or haven't you guessed that, yet? But I couldn't ignore the expression on Potter's face, "Scared?" I asked quietly so only Potter could hear me, knowing that even if he was, he'd no sooner admit to being afraid of me than I would if I were ever afraid of him.  
  
"You wish." he replied, also careful not to let Lockhart hear him.  
  
And the idiot clearly didn't hear either of us, as he cheerfully said, "Just do what I did, Harry!"  
  
"What? Drop my wand?" Potter replied instantly. Yes - drop your wand, Potter - it'd make this even more fun.  
  
Lockhart blatantly ignored the Boy-Who-Was-About-To-Be-Humiliated, and proceeded to lead him right into the trap, "Three - two - one - go!" I only waited for the end of the countdown, because I knew Potter wasn't going to try to attack me - he had been told not to, and he was a goody-goody-Gryffindor, so he wouldn't cheat - I only play fair when I have no chance of losing.  
  
I waved my wand in Potter's direction, and yelled, "Serpensortia!" I put all my effort into the spell, knowing that the size of the conjured serpent is directly related to the energy used to conjure it (much the same way as the effort put into the Cruciatus affects its strength). The large black snake reared up, fangs bared, ready to strike, but it just stayed there, staring at Potter - I think it was trying to stare him down.  
  
"Don't move, Potter. I'll get rid of it -" Snape started, as he stepped past me, towards Potter and the snake.  
  
Unfortunately for anyone who valued their limbs, Lockhart decided to act, interrupting Snape and charging into the situation, "Allow me!" he bellowed, casting a hex at the snake ... I didn't know what he said, but it definitely wasn't the spell to banish a snake.  
  
That was proved moments later, as the helpless creature was sent ten feet into the air, landing on the ground with a painful-sounding thump. I winced, in sympathy for what must have hurt the innocent animal. Then, in vengeful anger, it lunged at the nearest member of the offending species (that being humans) - a Hufflepuff boy, named Finch-Fletchley. My full attention was focused on the snake, as it bared it fangs, again, and slithered towards the Hufflepuff. Moments before it would have bitten him, I heard another hissing sound - not exactly a snake's hiss, but near enough to be the same language (like an English person speaking French has the wrong accent - this sounded more human, but was still serpent-tongue). I immediately turned to see that Potter had run towards the snake, and was still making the hissing sound. I shook my head, blinked and looked again. It was him, alright. The snake hissed at its would-be victim, once more, but then laid down on the ground, turning to look straight at Potter, in the same way that a lap-dog looks at its master.  
  
I stared at him with total loathing. The lucky git! I've spent months trying to learn how to do that (with sod-all success), and he's a born Parselmouth. The lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky bastard! I was only distracted from my jealous outrage by the now-not-going-to-be-snake-food Hufflepuff yelling at Potter, "What do you think you're playing at?"  
  
I looked around, to see three quarters of the students conversing in angry or horrified whispers, and the other quarter muttering to each other with morbid fascination (you've got one guess which house is which, there). When I turned back, the snake had disappeared, and I just caught a glimpse of Potter being dragged out of the Great Hall ... I also noted the absence of Weasley-the-sidekick and Hermione, so I guessed that they were the draggers.  
  
"What did he say?" a voice whispered in my ear, extremely quietly, so as not to be overheard. I turned to see Theo staring at me, intently.  
  
I frowned, looking at the ground where the snake had been, as I tried to remember what the hissing noise Potter had made sounded like. After a few seconds, I then began trying to translate it ... another few seconds, and I looked up at Theo, "Leave him." I answered, in almost as quiet a whisper as he had asked.  
  
"Damn - I thought he was encouraging it." Theo said, stomping his foot, petulantly, making it obvious that he wished Potter had been trying to kill off the Hufflepuff kid.  
  
"It'd be damned difficult to prove he wasn't, since I'm the only real witness." I muttered, grinning viciously.  
  
"And I'd bet he'll be public enemy number one, now that he's let that nasty little secret out." Theo added, now neglecting to whisper, since he was on the same subject as the rest of the Hall, anyway.  
  
"Who'd ever have thought that Harry-the-Gryffindor-good-guy-Potter was really the Boy-Who-Talks-To-Snakes." I asked. One thing bothered me, though. I turned round, to see Snape smirking evilly at the door Potter had left through. "Professor?" I asked cautiously.  
  
Snape started and turned to face me, "What is it, Mr Malfoy?"  
  
"Why did you suggest that particular spell?" I asked.  
  
"That, Mr Malfoy, is for me to know and for you ... not to." Snape said, smirking.  
  
"Fat lot of use." I muttered, "I could trade information with you." I suggested, looking at Snape, hopefully. He shook his head and started towards Lockhart, to tell the fool that the Club was an obvious failure and would never happen again under his (Lockhart's) watch.  
  
* * *  
  
"That bloody lucky snake-tongued git!" I muttered, for the umpteenth time, as we walked towards the Transfiguration classroom.  
  
"Leave it, would you, Draco." Theo growled, trying not to let the girls notice he was still talking to me.  
  
"I will not drop this. I will make that lucky git's life a living hell." I snarled quietly.  
  
"Oh, give it a rest." Theo snapped, "How can you be so self-centred?"  
  
"It's a gift ... and I've had years to hone it to perfection." I said proudly.  
  
"See - gifts take years to perfect." Theo said, finding a plausible comeback.  
  
"Nu-uh." I responded, shaking my head, "He's a bloody natural. I want to set Lockhart on him, again ... I could tell Lockhart that Potter put me up to tormenting him." I suggested hopefully.  
  
"And then he'd figure out you'd lied when Potter asks what the hell he's going on about." Theo noted.  
  
"Everyone always asks Lockhart what the hell he's on about ... and Lockhart rarely lets anyone get a word in edge-ways, anyway." I replied.  
  
"It's a bad idea." Theo said desperately, "Potter's going to get annoyed enough, without your help, anyway. A Parselmouth running around the school, and everyone suddenly finds out about it? He's toast."  
  
"Whatever." I muttered, as we reached the door and entered my least-favourite class.  
  
After half-an hour of note-taking ... during which I was told off for not paying attention, when I had been listening to her with an unusual degree of interest (we were working on animal transformations and I wanted to know more about this - I still had half-a-mind to try the Animagus, sometime), she decided to let us try changing birds into skunks.  
  
Fun. I wondered if I could encourage the skunk to stink Crabbe and Goyle. For some strange reason, I find it really funny when revolting things find those two ... although they usually find the revolting things, first.  
  
Cat and Blaise had taken to making irritating and distracting hissing noises - it didn't even sound close to Parseltongue, but they were just out to annoy me ... why couldn't they do that to Potter, instead? One of them flicked something at me - I think it was Blaise - at just the wrong moment, and I jumped, turning round when I was trying to cast the spell. Theo got hit by it. Now, if he had been a bird, he might have turned into a skunk - I don't know - but as it was, he turned into a badger.  
  
"Shoulda done that to a Hufflepuff." Pansy said, grinning.  
  
"It was an accident." I replied, backing away from Theo, as McGonagall loomed over us.  
  
"What happened here?" she asked ominously.  
  
Theo glared at me, "Sorry, Theo." I muttered, before turning to McGonagall - everyone has a teacher they just can't stand - she's the one I loathe, "I didn't mean -"  
  
"You were supposed to be transforming the livestock provided!" she all but yelled, "What made you feel the need to turn your friend, here, into a - a badger?" she asked angrily.  
  
"I said I didn't mean to ... or I tried to say it, anyway." I said quietly.  
  
"Don't talk back to me, young man! You are always causing trouble in my class, and I have had enough of it. If you play one more stupid stunt like this, you will not be allowed back into my classroom!" McGonagall yelled.  
  
"But -"  
  
"No buts! Now you will change him back, or you will be in detention until you graduate!"  
  
Oh, damn. I am going to hurt whoever threw that - that spitball - ewwww. I reached up to check my hair - that does it - whoever is responsible for this will pay dearly for it. I turned to the badger sitting on the table next to me - he was looking at me expectantly. Yeah, Theo, like I'm going to get this spell right - the chances of a second-year getting a Transfiguration spell that advanced right first try were astronomical, and she bloody well knew it. Still, I tried. It didn't work very well. Theo became a black-and-white cat, then a black-and-white chicken, then a black-and-white gerbil - this whole process took fifteen minutes, approximately. McGonagall looked far from happy. Finally, I managed to turn him back to human, but his hair was still black-and-white.  
  
"That was fun." Theo said, grinning, "Why couldn't you have turned me into a snake, while you were at it?" I noticed McGonagall glaring, so didn't answer. Theo continued to tell everyone his opinion of his animal experience, "But the chicken had to be the worst - at least it wasn't an ostrich." the entire class started laughing. McGonagall still looked ready to kill, and I was still recovering from the Duelling Club, so I refrained from joining the laughter.  
  
Just then, a yell sounded through the classroom, from outside - it sounded like Peeves, "ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!"  
  
Theo looked at me, "I'd like to see how the girls can blame you, this time - you've been too busy going through the majority of the animal kingdom with me."  
  
McGonagall had, thankfully, abandoned her vendetta against me, in favour of finding out what was going on. We followed, but I kept back, trying to remain inconspicuous - even if Potter (who, it turned out, was right next to the crime-scene) was the prime suspect, I was still number two on the list. Potter was standing over a petrified Finch-Fletchley, but the thing that really freaked me out was that the Gryffindor Ghost, Nearly Headless Nick, was hovering above the scene, also incapacitated. If it could do that to a ghost, it's more dangerous than even I had thought.  
  
We were ushered away, so obviously I stayed, just around the corner. Just long enough to hear Peeves singing, "Oh Potter, you rotter, oh what have you done? You're killing off students, you think it's good fun -" That's cute. I like that song.  
  
There was nothing else to see or hear, so I returned to the dorm room, humming Peeves' song, "Someone's trying to frame Potter." I said, grinning.  
  
"How?" Theo asked, trying to charm his hair back to normal.  
  
"Well, they got Norris, after Potter found out Filch was a Squib." I said, quoting the rumour-mill for the first one, "They got Creevy after he pissed off Potter, at the Quidditch match. Then Finch-Fletchley, after that duelling incident. Whoever's out to get the Mudbloods is also trying to pin it on Potter."  
  
"That sounds fun." Theo said distractedly, "I'm gonna see if Blaise has any of that Muggle hair-dye stuff she uses."  
  
"Her hair is blonde. Yours is supposed to be brown." I noted.  
  
"Well I'd rather go blonde, than stay like this." Theo muttered, before stalking out of the room. The whole time, Crabbe and Goyle had just sat there, staring at the wall.  
  
* * *  
  
End of chapter 10 


	11. Bah, Humbug

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's.  
  
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar.  
  
Chapter 11 - Bah, Humbug  
  
"You're leaving?" I asked sceptically.  
  
"Uh huh." Theo replied, as I glared at his signature on the list for taking the train home, "I'm not staying here, with some freak-snake on a homicidal rampage."  
  
"You're a pureblood." I told him, exasperated.  
  
"So was Sir Nicholas." Theo said irritably.  
  
"He was a Gryffindor ... and he was already dead." I noted, "You are a Slytherin and I have it on good authority that the monster will not be set on any pureblood, other than Squibs."  
  
"You know too much." Theo snapped, "I'm going home, anyway."  
  
"Gee, thanks. Leave me with Dumb and Dumber. I'll be bored senseless."  
  
* * *  
  
I was on my way to DADA class, minding my own business (plotting the downfall of Lockhart's last ounce of sanity), when I heard a yell - it was a Weasley twin, and he must have thought it was funny, "Make way for the Heir of Slytherin!"  
  
"Master of the Chamber of Secrets, coming through!"  
  
"Majorly evil dude, on the rampage!"  
  
At this point, they rounded a corner and one of the twins nearly bumped into me. I snarled at the offending Weasley, "You flatter me."  
  
"We weren't talking about you, Malfoy." the other twin snapped.  
  
"No? I don't see your pet Parselmouth doing anything evil, while I most definitely am." I said, grinning.  
  
"What might that be?" the twin I'd nearly bumped into asked.  
  
"Is that an admission of guilt, I hear?" the other one added.  
  
"No." I said quickly, "It's just that we Slytherins are always up to something ... I already told you two, I'm not the Heir. The chances of me being Slytherin's Heir are on a par with the chances of Lockhart announcing his engagement to Snape."  
  
Both of them forced down the threatening laughter at that, purely because I was the one who had made the joke. Just then, Potter rounded the corner, trying not to be noticed while still sniggering at the twins' idea of a joke. One of the twins immediately resumed their game by saying, "Move it or lose it, Malfoy."  
  
The other twin joined in with, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure you count as an enemy, to Harry."  
  
I gave both of them a vicious glare, careful not to look at Potter who was trying not to laugh.  
  
Then, to add injury to insult, Cat and Blaise bumped into me from behind, "What's going on?" Blaise asked.  
  
Before I could answer, a Weasley twin replied, "Malfoy's getting in the way. Better watch out, there, wannabie."  
  
I opened my moth to retort, but decided against it. I'd either incriminate myself or make a fool of myself.  
  
The other twin then added, "Yeah, it'd look real bad if Malfoy got himself petrified, when he's supposed to be a pureblood." the way he emphasised the words 'supposed to be' ... I felt ready to kill him.  
  
"Oh, don't!" Weaslette, who had appeared from behind her brothers, yelled, "How can you think this is funny?"  
  
"Good question, kid." Cat noted.  
  
"It's not like Potter's the only Parselmouth this century." Theo added, stepping up beside me.  
  
One Weasley twin started sniggering and pointing at Theo's now-blonde hair, which exactly matched Blaise's. I could hear Theo muttering, "I'm never going to live this down, I just hope it doesn't grow back black-and-white again".  
  
The other twin immediately asked, "Who else?"  
  
"Duh." I said, shoving past them all, and the other Slytherins followed me.  
  
* * *  
  
During that DADA class, there were many notes passed. Those that I received were:  
  
'Draco - sorry for thinking you were it. The attack during Transfiguration proves you're innocent. -Cat ... and Blaise'  
  
'Draco - what do those twins think they're playing at? They're only making more people believe Potter's it. -Theo'  
  
To which I replied, 'Theo - they're making a joke out of it ... you do know what a joke is, right? -Draco'  
  
and finally:  
  
'Draco - what's with all the note passing? What's up? Can I join in? -Pansy'  
  
Lockhart didn't even notice.  
  
I managed to scare the man, again, though - he didn't seem ready to believe that there was any danger - he claimed that he had scared off the attacker, personally, and there would be no more attacks.  
  
My response to this was, every five minutes, "Look out, Professor - the monster's behind you!"  
  
He fell for it every bloody time!  
  
* * *  
  
And so, Christmas holidays began. Hermione wasn't the only Mudblood staying over, either. There was a Ravenclaw prefect, named Clearwater, hanging around as well. She seemed to be sneaking around the castle on her own, a lot. Odd, considering the danger involved. Prefect-Weasley seemed to be snooping around, too - probably thought he'd catch the Heir of Slytherin ... he's looking in the wrong place - the best place to hide something is in plain sight, and little Weaslette couldn't be missed if she tried - still, no one's even guessed it's her. Of course, not too many Slytherins went home - they weren't all as afraid of their own house's Heir as Theo seemed to be ... the Slytherin-Mudblood pulled a successful disappearing act on the day the train left, though (as in he took said train all the way back to London).  
  
Still, I spent the time, or most of it, reading. The rest of the time, I had to keep reminding Crabbe and Goyle which way the common room was, when they were out - every other day, I'd find them lost. I don't know how they manage during the term.  
  
I walked into the dorm on Christmas Eve, to find them talking, "But it's got to be someone who's still here?" Crabbe asked. Goyle shrugged dumbly.  
  
"What're you two talking about?" I asked suspiciously.  
  
"We're trying to find out who the Heir is." Crabbe (the smarter of the two, but that's not saying much) said.  
  
"Do you know who it is?" Goyle asked.  
  
I frowned. "I told you at Halloween ... and last week ... and two days ago." I said coldly, "Is your memory that bad? You might want to steal Longbottom's Rememberall." I received a blank look, so, with an exasperated sigh, I told him again, "I don't know who it is. If I did, I'd point them in Granger's direction. Now, I want to get some sleep, so stop talking so loudly."  
  
* * *  
  
The next day, I was woken at five in the morning, by Crabbe and Goyle, who had discovered their Christmas presents. I glanced at my own pile of presents at the foot of my bed, and decided not to leave them unguarded, therefore I got up and started looking at them.  
  
Nothing particularly interesting, so I locked them all in my trunk, cast silencing spells around my bed, and went back to sleep.  
  
I woke again, at lunchtime, and tried to keep out of everyone's way, that day. Christmas? Bah, Humbug. I don't know, really - I was just in a bad mood - I get these bad moods when anyone wakes me at five in the morning ... five in the morning is supposed to be a time of night before you go to sleep, not a time of morning at which anyone should be woken.  
  
On the way to the Great Hall, I bumped into Weaslette ... this time the intended-to-be-scary look she gave me really did creep me out - she glared at me in such a way that it could even make Snape run screaming with his metaphorical tail between his legs. I skirted around her and made good time towards the Feast.  
  
I can't believe the Twitly Two, though - they were already on their third helpings of turkey-dinner when I arrived at the Feast, and I don't know how anyone could eat that much - a whole army would eat less in a day, than those two ate in one sitting. Christmas is never a good time for me.  
  
"Hey, Draco." one of the third years said, offering me a Christmas Cracker to pull.  
  
"Bah, Humbug." I snarled irritably.  
  
"Spoil-sport." he said.  
  
"Thank you." I replied, taking the insult as a compliment - something I have found irritates people even more than actually giving them an insult.  
  
"Weasley alert." Cat said - she was the only Slytherin girl in my year to stay for the holidays. And sure enough, the four redheads known as the Weasley-boys entered the Hall. The twins were still playing body-guard for Potter (who was wearing a Weasley jumper), and their Prefect brother was still telling them off ... albeit in a less anal manner, seeing as it's Christmas.  
  
Bah, humbug ... and did I happen to mention - Bah, Humbug?  
  
"I thought those cheap, tatty jumpers were reserved for poor red-haired losers?" I asked loudly, with the intent of being heard at the Gryffindor table. If I didn't enjoy Christmas, I was damned well going to try to ruin it for everyone else, too.  
  
Nothing. He ignored me. He bloody well ignored me! Now, that really takes the Christmas cake. I stood up and left, as soon as I had eaten the minimal requirement of said cake (trying not to be sick - any bread-product with dried fruit mixed into it makes me feel nauseous ... and watching those two idiots' idea of eating does not help).  
  
On my way back down to the common room, I spotted the Ravenclaw I told you about - Clearwater, I think her name was - sneaking into a disused dungeon classroom. Being the Slytherin I am, I decided to be nosey. Bad idea. I did not need to see that. I ran all the way back to the common room, before making a vomiting noise. Prefect-Weasley had a girlfriend ... and I was going to be sick, after all the effort I'd put into eating that disgusting cake.  
  
Christmas has never been one of my favourite holidays ... I might even go so far as to say that it was my least favourite. I will repeat - Bah, Humbug!  
  
The highlight of my day had to be when Noctowl brought me an envelope from my father ... it contained the funniest thing I'd seen in weeks (and that includes Lockhart's face when I told him the Monster of Slytherin was right behind him ... ten times in a row). A clipping from the Daily Prophet:  
  
'ENQUIRY AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC  
  
Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office,  
  
was today fined fifty Galleons for bewitching a Muggle car.  
  
Mr Lucius Malfoy, a governor of Hogwarts School of  
  
Witchcraft and Wizardry, where the enchanted car crashed earlier  
  
this year, called today for Mr Weasley's resignation.  
  
"Weasley has brought the Ministry into disrepute," Mr  
  
Malfoy told our reporter, "He is unfit to draw up our  
  
laws and his ridiculous Muggle Protection Act should be scrapped  
  
immediately."  
  
Mr Weasley was unavailable for comment, although his  
  
wife told reporters to clear off or she'd set the family ghoul  
  
on them.'  
  
Good - maybe he'd get fired, and the stupid raids might stop. The letter that came with the clipping wasn't so good - Father wrote that our Manor had been raided last week. Thankfully, they didn't find much - he had been tipped off about it, beforehand, and all the particularly dangerous contraband in our dungeon had been stashed under the drawing room.  
  
* * *  
  
Half an hour later, I decided that the Dim-witted Duet must have gotten themselves lost again. I growled, deciding that I would be better off staying home, next year. If those two were still in the Great Hall, stuffing their faces, I'd kill them - I swear it.  
  
Luckily for them, they were actually lost, again ... now I'd just call them stupid names and they wouldn't understand the fact that it was an insult. "There you are! Have you two been pigging out in the Great Hall all this time?" I asked, "I've been looking for you, I want to show you something really funny." then spotted the Weasley-prefect ... I felt sick, on remembering exactly what I'd seen, but decided to get over it by insulting the source of the problem, "And what're you doing down here, Weasley?"  
  
"You want to show a bit more respect to a school prefect! I don't like your attitude!" Weasley snapped angrily.  
  
Yeah, right - I'll respect him when Hades rides a snowplow to work. I gave him a glare that says just that, and beckoned the Brainless Boys to follow me. "That Peter Weasley -"  
  
"Percy." Crabbe corrected. Since when did Crabbe have a memory that would extend to Weasleys' first names? Oh, well.  
  
"Whatever. I've noticed him sneaking around a lot lately." I said, deciding to keep the Weasley-prefect's real reasons for sneaking around, for blackmail, and tell these two my original theory, "And I bet I know what he's up to. He thinks he's going to catch Slytherin's Heir single-handed." I snorted at the thought that if he was going after the Heir, he'd have to do it single-handed, considering where he had one of his hands ... no - I don't want to revive the memory - I was trying to repress it. I stopped outside the common room, "What's the new password, again?" I asked, not particularly thinking straight, but then I remembered it, "Oh, yeah - Pureblood." I said to the wall. I re-entered the common room and re-claimed my usual seat. The few Slytherins that looked up to see who was there turned away with mutterings of "Scrooge" and "Grinch" ... excellent - I had gotten my point across that I DON'T LIKE CHRISTMAS.  
  
"Wait here." I ordered, pointing to the chairs they usually occupy - you know those are their chairs because of the dents in them. "I'll go and get it - my father's just sent it to me." I returned to the dorm and picked up the envelope, thought about it for a second, then took the newspaper cutting out, stashing the letter and envelope in my trunk.  
  
I returned to the common room, to see the Brainless Boys looking around gormlessly - I still find it hard to believe that anyone can be that stupid - they looked like they'd never seen the common room, before.  
  
"That'll give you a laugh." I said, as I handed the cutting to Crabbe, who laughed weakly and handed it to Goyle. Goyle gave it back to me, also giving me a blank look to go with it. "Well? Don't you think it's funny?" I asked. Goyle laughed, also sounding as blank as he usually looked. I shrugged off their idiocy in favour of degrading the Weasley name. "Arthur Weasley loves Muggles so much he should snap his wand in half and go join them. You'd never know the Weasleys were purebloods, the way they behave." Crabbe scowled, as if I'd just insulted HIS family. "What's up with you, Crabbe?" I asked.  
  
After the usual two-or-three seconds it takes either of them to process and answer any question, Crabbe replied, "Stomach ache."  
  
"Well, go up to the Hospital Wing and give all those Mudbloods a kick for me." I said (specifically Creepy), "You know, I'm surprised the Daily Prophet hasn't reported all these attacks yet. I suppose Dumbledore's trying to hush it all up. He'll be sacked if it doesn't stop soon. Father's always said Dumbledore's the worst thing that's ever happened to this place. He loves Muggle-borns. A decent Headmaster would never've let slime that Creevy in." The little brat was horrible - I couldn't understand if a Muggle school would let him in, let alone a real school like Hogwarts. I proceeded to perform a deliberately terrible impersonation of Creepy, "Potter, can I have your picture? Potter, can I have your autograph? Can I lick your shoes, please, Potter?" I stopped and stared at them. They were behaving even dumber than normal, and that really is saying something. "What's the matter with you two?"  
  
They both laughed with the same lack of conviction they had earlier. I wondered if they might have managed to get their hands on something alcoholic, or narcotic, at Christmas dinner. Still, even if they were on something, I really oughtn't to let my guard down.  
  
"Saint Potter, the Mudbloods' friend. He's another one with no proper wizard feeling, or he wouldn't go around with that jumped-up Granger Mudblood." I said, knowing perfectly well exactly how hypocritical that was, but I've already freely admitted to being a hypocrite, so who cares? It sounded good and I know it's what those two want to hear (if they have enough brain-power to want anything beyond abusing the sin of gluttony). "And people think he's Slytherin's Heir!" Now, to go straight to full-fledged lying - they'll never spot the difference. I turned slightly away from them, so neither would notice the signs, even if they had the intelligence - when I lie, I do it properly, "I wish I knew who it is. I could help them." yeah, when Snape decides to adopt a Weasley.  
  
Goyle then asked, "You must have some idea who's behind it all?" it's strange enough for Goyle to speak up, like that, but for the five times in a row that he does to be the same bloody question is just so annoying.  
  
"You know I haven't, Goyle, how many times do I have to tell you?" I asked, picking up a small wrapped object that had been sitting behind me, where the two idiots couldn't see it, looking around to see that no one was watching (except Stupid and Stupider, of course, but they don't count) and pocketing it. "And Father won't even tell me anything about the last time the Chamber was opened, either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says that it was all kept quiet and it'll look suspicious if I know too much about it." what I'm telling these two, my father actually did tell me, but I'm not spilling the beans on anything I know, that Father didn't say, "But I know one thing: last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. So I bet it's only a matter of time." I paused, deciding I'd already lied enough that I may as well go for the money-shot, "I hope it's Granger." I finished, pulling the evil-homicidal look that I had picked up from my father.  
  
Goyle decided to act like he had a brain, today, asking, "D'you know if the person who opened the Chamber last time was caught?" I glanced at him, wondering what was wrong with him - Goyle is even stupider than Crabbe, and he's never asked two intelligent questions in a row that weren't related to food.  
  
Still, father had told me that someone had been framed and expelled for the last opening of the Chamber of Secrets, so I may as well tell them this, "Oh, yeah ... whoever it was was expelled. They're probably still in Azkaban."  
  
"Azkaban?" Goyle asked. Now that's the Goyle I remember - brain capacity of a troll, and a shorter memory-span.  
  
"Azkaban - the wizard prison, Goyle. Honestly, if you were any slower, you'd be going backwards." I turned round, to watch them carefully, while not looking like I was, "Father says to keep my head down and let the Heir of Slytherin get on with it. He says the school needs ridding all the Mudblood filth, but not to get mixed up in it." sensible advice, except the part where I don't want Snake-face to get his way, if I can avoid it. "Of course," I said, changing the subject, "he's got a lot on his plate at the moment. You know the Ministry of Magic raided our Manor last week?" Goyle actually reacted ... in a way that could resemble sympathy or concern - something was not right with that picture. I decided to ignore it, for now. "Yeah. Luckily, they didn't find much. Father's got some very valuable Dark Arts stuff. But luckily, we've got our own secret chamber under the drawing-room floor -"  
  
I was interrupted by Crabbe yelling. I looked at him, frowning. The lighting in here shouldn't make his hair change colour. He suddenly exclaimed, "Medicine for my stomach." and both of them bolted for the exit. I'd swear they were shrinking.  
  
I stood up and walked slowly across the room, to where Cat was playing chess with the third year I'd pissed off at dinner. "Cat - did you see Clueless and Gormless there?"  
  
"Nope. They weren't here." she said, looking up at me.  
  
"Are you dense, Cat?" the third-year asked, "They just ran out like there was a dragon on their tails."  
  
"I saw neither Crabbe nor Goyle, in this room, since before lunch, Mark." Cat said, glaring at the third-year and daring him to argue.  
  
"They were just here!" I snapped, "And they were acting ... well first slower than usual, then Goyle acted smarter than Crabbe, then they ran off for no sensible reason - have you ever known Crabbe to get indigestion?"  
  
"I told you, I didn't see them." Cat repeated.  
  
"Then who was I just talking to?" I asked irritably.  
  
"Not them." Cat said simply.  
  
"That's ridiculous!" I snapped, "It looked a Hell of a lot like them, to me!"  
  
Cat sighed, "Looks can be deceiving, if you are believing what you are perceiving." she said, smirking, "They had stronger, lighter auras than Crabbe and Goyle - it couldn't have been them."  
  
"You can read auras?" I asked, stunned, "You really are a Seer, then."  
  
"Uh huh." Cat said, not looking at me, "I can't read them all the time - just occasionally - but I know what your two thugs read as, and those weren't them."  
  
"So who were they?" I asked.  
  
"Don't know - never seen those auras before, but like I said, I can't see them all the time." Cat said, returning to her game, to kill off one of the third-year's knights with her queen.  
  
I decided this was worth investigating, and left the common room, in search of my 'thugs' as Cat called them. As I reached the Entrance Hall, I heard noises from inside the cupboard - what sounded like shouts of "Let us out!" I wandered over to said cupboard, idly, and looked down to see two pairs of shoes that could only be Crabbe and Goyle's - no one else would ever wear those.  
  
I smirked, wondering how they were going to explain this. I took out my wand and muttered, "Alohomora." the door opened and Crabbe and Goyle fell out. "Right - how long have you two been in there, and what the hell is going on?" I asked.  
  
"We don't know." Goyle said.  
  
"Last thing I remember, we saw these chocolate cakes lying over there -" Crabbe said, pointing to the marble staircase "- then we were locked in here and someone had swiped our shoes."  
  
I pointed to the two pairs of footwear on the ground, and then asked, "How long have you been in there?" I repeated.  
  
"Dunno." Goyle said daftly.  
  
Crabbe, meanwhile, had just about enough presence of mind to look at his watch, and said, "Hour and a half ... that big hand's the minutes, right?"  
  
"Yes." I sighed, realising that Cat had been right ... so who had I been talking to?  
  
* * *  
  
End of chapter 11 


	12. Snakes, Ravens and CatPeople

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's.  
  
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar.  
  
Sorry it took so long to reply to your reviews, but my inbox was overflowing.  
  
angelkas: The Malfoys live in Wiltshire, which is in the south of England ... Britain is technically separate from Europe ... well, it was last time I checked. I am editing it as fast as I can ... PoA is gonna have more changes, but I am working as fast as I can.  
  
shinigamisangel: Yes, I am going to re-write it every time a new book comes out. And I can't be writing ATHSS-next-gen, because writer's block still won't let me go near it.  
  
Cassiopeia Andromeda Heracles: Yeah, well according to my favourite fanfic (Slytherin Rising) Quirrell's first name is Samel, and that's why I used that name for him.  
  
Robin: Did it actually say outright that Lucius didn't work at the Ministry? Because I kinda assumed he did ... obviously, a higher-level job than commoners like the Weasleys, but still ...? I still need to re-read OotP, a few times, before I memorise it, so I could be wrong.  
  
Last Hope: Hi ... thanks.  
  
Bob: Yes, you were the first to ask, weren't you? Thanks for the questions - I'm still working on it, so more would be appreciated, but these ones are great, thanks again. As for ATHSS, sorry to say total writer's block - don't hold your breath waiting for it.  
  
seanmulligan2000: hmmm ... well ... yeah, but I'm not going to redo that again, before book 6 is published.  
  
~Ravenclaw@Heart~: Thank you, but really, I'm not as good as JKR, I'm just good at copying character-behaviour patterns ... and warping them to my own ends.  
  
cliff w: here's some more.  
  
Last Hope: Sirius and Draco being related won't havee much, if any affect.  
  
Sinical-Sarchasm: With a reviewer like you, I can imagine I would be updating a lot faster ... I love your reviews ... I love being told what part of each chapter someone liked!  
  
Chapter 12 - Snakes, Ravens ... and Cat-People  
  
I didn't see or hear anything even vaguely interesting, until the third day of term, at breakfast, "Hey, Draco. You'll never guess what I heard." Cat said, grinning like a Cheshire - ... that's not even funny.  
  
"What?" I asked.  
  
"I heard Granger's in the Hospital Wing. No one knows why, but they think it might have been another attack. She was brought in by Potter and his Weasley, on Christmas night. Pomfrey won't let anyone in to see her." Cat replied.  
  
"And you know this, how?" I asked.  
  
"Usual way." she replied. That means the Raven-gossipers.  
  
"Right." I said sceptically. "I'm going to see her."  
  
"How? I just said, Pomfrey won't let anyone in." Cat asked.  
  
"And I always find a way past people. I'm good at that." I said vaguely, as I stood up and wandered off, noting that the Two Twits were still stuffing their faces.  
  
* * *  
  
"No, Mr Malfoy." Pomfrey said sternly, "No one may see her."  
  
I pouted and tried the puppy-dog eyes ... she wasn't budging. Then I heard Hermione's voice, "It's O.K. Madam Pomfrey. Let him in, please." At least she wasn't petrified. Madam Pomfrey did her Jewish-mother impression, but let me in. "Stop right there." Hermione said, as I was just about to turn round the curtains.  
  
"Why?" I asked, stopping.  
  
"Because I don't want you to see me." she replied.  
  
"Why? What happened?" I asked, smirking but not passing the curtains.  
  
"I was experimenting with animal transformations, and it sort of went wrong." she muttered.  
  
"And what did you turn yourself into?" I asked, desperately wanting to look, but still not doing so.  
  
"I was trying to turn into a cat, but all that happened was I grew fur and ears." she answered.  
  
"That's all?" I asked sceptically, "And you're embarrassed to be seen like that? I'll not laugh - I promise."  
  
"And a promise from you means how much?" she asked, implying she thought my word meant nothing.  
  
"In this case? Enough to stop me from actually laughing." I said simply.  
  
She sighed, before saying, "Fine, then." I stepped around the curtain, and saw her. She was right about the fur and ears, but her eyes had gone cat-like, as well.  
  
"You make a cute kitten." I said, smirking but not laughing.  
  
She glared at me, but didn't say anything rude, instead asking, "So why are you here?"  
  
"I wanted to see that my favourite Gryffindor wasn't petrified - that's the popular rumour, you know." I said, sitting on the foot of her bed. As I did so, I saw something move under the sheets to get out of my way - it definitely wasn't a foot. I grinned, "You've got a tail?" I asked.  
  
Her eyes widened in surprise, but then she realised how I'd figured that out and nodded slowly, "I'm going to be stuck here for another couple of weeks." she noted.  
  
"What did you use to do that to yourself?" I asked sceptically.  
  
"Ummm..." she turned away, not looking at me.  
  
"Well?" I prompted, hoping she'd give in and tell me. She remained silent, "Most Transfigurations can be reversed using the same magic. It had to be something stronger."  
  
She looked at me and I stared into her cat-like eyes. I won the staring contest and she answered my question, "Polyjuice."  
  
"That'd take some work ... and some ingredients you can't get without Snape knowing about it." I noted, "And it's only for human transformations - surely you'd know that." then the Knut dropped, "It was you three, wasn't it? Potter and Weasley. That's who was impersonating Crabbe and Goyle, on Christmas, wasn't it?" She looked up at me with a rabbit-in-headlights expression. I smirked, "Caught out." I said triumphantly, "Who were you trying to turn into? I know a lot of Slytherin girls who have cats."  
  
She looked as if she HAD been petrified, now. "I - I - How'd you know it wasn't really them?" she asked.  
  
"One, Goyle was acting too smart. Two, Crabbe never gets indigestion. Three, they ran off for no good reason. And four, I found the real Crabbe and Goyle locked in a cupboard in the Entrance Hall, ten minutes later, claiming to have been stuck there for an hour and a half." I said, grinning at her unease. "Why did you do it?" I asked.  
  
"Umm ... we thought you were the Heir of Slytherin." she said nervously, not looking at me. I laughed. "Hey! You said you wouldn't laugh!"  
  
"I said I wouldn't laugh at your feline appearance. I never said I wouldn't laugh at your stupidity." I answered. "What is it about me that screams 'Heir of Slytherin' to all you Gryffindors?"  
  
"It's the fact that you're evil and the way you treat Muggle-borns ... and your reaction to the writing on the wall wasn't exactly very good P.R., was it?" she said coldly.  
  
I sighed, "The Weasley twins already interrogated me." I said, "I'm surprised you didn't hear about that? And besides, of all the people to impersonate, you picked those two idiots? They're probably rooting for the Heir, this year. I don't trust them with any of my real opinions, let alone with the details I know about the Heir."  
  
"And those details would be?" Hermione asked hopefully.  
  
"Well, aside from the obvious fact that they're trying to frame Potter ... I also know -" I stopped talking, as I heard the door open - it was Pomfrey. She told me to get out and leave her patient alone. I shrugged to Hermione and left her alone.  
  
* * *  
  
A couple of weeks later, the four of us (Cat, Blaise, Theo and I) were walking back to our common room. The quickest route from DADA to the dungeons, on a Friday afternoon, was right past the crime-scene of the Squib's cat.  
  
And as we walked past the red paint on the wall, I heard footsteps coming towards us. We all stopped and looked at each other. Cat took out a mirror and glanced around the corner with it. "Weasley girl." she whispered.  
  
I nodded, "We ought to go another way." I whispered. But too late, as Weaslette turned the corner with her eyes down, clutching the all-too-familiar book to her chest, like it was a lifeline.  
  
She ran right into Cat and yelped, jumping backwards, "What? What're you four doing here?" she asked.  
  
"We could ask the same of you." Theo noted, a lot braver than I thought he was, considering the fact that he knew exactly who was behind the attacks.  
  
"I'm going that way." she answered, pointing past us.  
  
"And we're going that way." I said, pointing towards the staircase that would lead to the Entrance Hall, from which we could reach the dungeons.  
  
"Right." Weaslette said, sidestepping Cat, but Blaise stepped in her way. "Would you please let me past?" she asked angrily.  
  
"Nope." Blaise said, snatching the diary from her. "What's this? Weasley's diary?"  
  
"Give that back." Weaslette growled.  
  
Blaise grinned, "No." she said, holding the diary out of Weaslette's reach. Then, in a very childish yet still amusing display, she threw the book to Theo, almost-singing, "Keepaway!"  
  
Theo caught the diary, holding it gingerly as if he was afraid to drop it. Weaslette moved to try to retrieve the book, but both girls grabbed her by the arms. "What's so special about this, that you're willing to take on four older Slytherins for it?" Theo asked, opening the book and flicking through the blank pages. "Gee, this is an exciting read." he added sarcastically.  
  
"Give it back." Weaslette repeated slowly, putting as much venom into each word as she could. When Theo shook his head and the girls didn't let her go, she turned to me. "I want my book back." she all-but-hissed.  
  
I bit my lip and said nervously, "Theo, give it back." nervous is not a tone I usually use, and I think Theo picked up on the hidden meaning that I was just trying to cover myself from any potential retribution.  
  
"Nu uh." Theo said, sounding cool and calm.  
  
"You really don't want that book, do you, little Weasley?" Blaise whispered in her ear, "Don't tell me it's any good to you - why not just dispose of such a worthless item?"  
  
"Yeah." Cat said, "I don't understand why you keep it. I think it's a bad book."  
  
"Totally pointless." Blaise added.  
  
"And you would never write in a book like that. It's so old ... and filthy." Cat continued.  
  
Something snapped in Weaslette - I saw it. It was like she'd just realised something important. "It's evil." she whispered.  
  
"That bad?" Cat asked, feigning ignorance.  
  
"If it's evil, you should throw it away and be glad for its absence." Blaise said. Ginny nodded anxiously. The girls then let her go and Theo reluctantly let her take the book. She ran into the toilets and Blaise followed her. I heard a flushing sound and both of them returned after less than a minute. "Book gone. All better." Blaise said, ushering the little Gryffindor in the direction she'd said she'd been heading.  
  
"That was good." Theo said, grinning.  
  
"Yeah." I said, smiling, "Good riddance."  
  
* * *  
  
I was able to relax, for the first time since Halloween. I was in such a good mood that when Lockhart started boasting that he'd gotten rid of the Heir, by himself, in our next class, I decided to say, "Yeah, you're the best, sir." of course, the illusion of sincerity in my tone must have added to the going-insane factor. Rule number 26 - 'Every once in a while, declare peace. It confuses the hell out of your enemies'. The strange look he gave me was proof enough that he thought he was hearing things, "You must have done something brilliant to have gotten rid of him. Please tell us how you did it." I added, in the same voice-that-sounds-sincere-but-really-isn't.  
  
And Lockhart started another one of his little acts. He called me up to the front of the classroom, to play the part of the Heir, and ended up wrestling an imaginary monster and chasing me back to my seat. It was actually funny, and everyone laughed at my own personal contribution to the act (my Lockhart-impersonations, when his back was turned). It did help that Lockhart wasn't trying to be funny when everyone burst into fits of laughter.  
  
* * *  
  
The day of the Snakes-and-Ravens Quidditch match, the sun decided to shine out, over the still-snow-covered grounds. The pitch itself had been cleared, but by the time of the match itself, you could still just about see your breath in front of your face. There was a temperature-resisting charm on my Quidditch robes, which meant that however hot or cold it was, they would always keep me at a comfortable temperature. Still, my face was freezing and I had lost some circulation in my fingers. I wasn't complaining, though - every time I felt like whining about the cold, I deliberately reminded myself of to be grateful I was a little bit cold, rather than bursting into flames, as Higgs would like to see.  
  
"Malfoy, if you screw this game up, I will personally turn you into the wide-mouthed-tree-frog you suggested the Gryffindors enlist, in first year!" Flint snarled, as we prepared for the game.  
  
"I doubt Potter's going to make a spectacle of himself, in this match ... considering the fact that THIS IS THE RAVENS MATCH! I was only distracted by Potter because of how much I hate him." I replied coldly.  
  
"Yeah." Flint said disbelievingly.  
  
And we made our way out onto the pitch for my second official game.  
  
As Flint and Davies shook hands - not exactly friendly, but not as bad as last time, when we faced Wood - I tried to stare down the Ravens' Seeker, Cho Chang. She stared back defiantly. This was going to be fun. I winked at her and she broke eye-contact first. I was winning already.  
  
On Madam Hooch's whistle, we all took off. Both Chang and I flew higher than everyone else. I started searching for my target immediately, but Chang tried circling around me, getting in my line of sight. She did it once too often and I flew sideways into her, sending her falling ten feet before she recovered. She glared up at me. "I never make the same mistake twice, Chang!" I shouted. She pulled a face at me and flew off to the far end of the pitch, proceeding to hover around the Snakes' goals. I looked down, scanning the area - still nothing.  
  
It can get very boring, looking for something so small in such a large area - especially a moving object. If it were stationary, at least a systematic search would find it. Still, I was good enough to find it, the question was mostly one of being lucky enough to spot it first ... the skill was only in stopping the enemy from getting there first, once it's out in the open.  
  
During the half-hour that I was searching for the Snitch, I did note that my father was present for this match, as well. And he was giving me that look again - the same way he watched me for the Lions match. It was unnerving, but I didn't let it distract me. I refused to let anything distract me, this time. I was NOT going to fail again. For a brief moment, the memory of exactly what happened last time, and what would happen again if I did fail this time, came to my mind. I shook my head, chasing that thought away as fast as possible, "That, Draco, is what you call a distraction." I muttered to myself, making reference to the offending thought.  
  
I looked around, trying to locate the opposition (Cho Chang). I saw her in time to see that she was flying towards the Ravens' goal-hoops. I swerved round as she passed me, and started after her at top speed. I drew level, but still didn't see the Snitch. She reached out and tried to accelerate, and I followed her concentrated line of sight. There was, a sparkle of gold, just below the highest goal. I sped up (a Nimbus 2001 is, by its very definition, far faster than a Nimbus 1900, which Chang was flying), swerved across her path, to throw her off, and caught the Snitch while Chang was still spiralling off-course.  
  
Only then did I even bother to look at the rest of the game, or the scoreboard. I knew that with such superior brooms, we'd have been well in the lead, but when I saw the score update to account for my capture of the Snitch, I was stunned. Slytherin - 390. Ravenclaw - 30. "We won by three hundred and sixty points!" I whispered, hardly daring to believe it.  
  
"Lucky." Chang growled, from just below me.  
  
"Yeah, right." I replied sarcastically, "A win by that much can be explained away by luck. I don't think."  
  
"I meant you." she said, floating up to hover level to me, "You'd not have caught that if you hadn't spotted me pass you."  
  
"Still have been a two-ten win." I noted.  
  
"Unlike some people, we don't have the resources of a self-important rich-kid on the team." Chang snarled, "Play us on an even field, and we'd have beaten you."  
  
"Believe it or not, we do have talent behind all the amoral accessories." I said, smirking.  
  
"Talent for finding the next best thing to cheating." she replied, with a smirk. I glanced down to see the rest of my team on the ground celebrating in the most undignified manner they could find (don't ask), and not seeming to notice they were missing one. The Ravens were slinking off the pitch, trying not to be noticed. Chang flew closer to me, "You know, you are a good player. Anyone else would have just overtaken me, but you made sure I'd not make the catch if a Bludger had gone for you."  
  
"Did I?" I asked, "I thought I was just trying to send you into a tailspin."  
  
"You nearly did." she admitted.  
  
I started slowly down towards the ground, and she kept level with me. "Would have worked on Harris." I noted, referring to the seventh-year Hufflepuff Seeker.  
  
"Probably." she said, smirking, "I'd try it, if I hadn't already beaten him."  
  
"You must be a damned smart book-worm, to be in Ravenclaw." I said, pausing just out of earshot of the ground.  
  
"Not all Ravenclaws are that good, you know?" she informed me.  
  
"But you show a lot of Slytherin traits. To be a Raven, your intelligence and bookishness have to outshine your Snake-traits." I said, explaining my previous comment. "It's like that Granger girl must be very brave to have stayed out of Ravenclaw."  
  
"Since when were you so polite about her?" Chang asked, "I heard what you said at Halloween, and saw you looking straight at her when you said it."  
  
"Well, I didn't want to offend you, and I don't know what way you would react to language like that." I admitted. It wasn't true - I was actually trying to sound rude, with the tone in my voice, when I had mentioned Hermione's name. I looked down again and saw my father standing in the doorway the Snakes' team were currently exiting through. He was looking straight at me. "I'd better go. See you later, Cho." and with that, I dived down to where Hooch was waiting to finish packing up the Quidditch balls. I handed her the Snitch and trudged across the pitch, to my father.  
  
"Well done, Draco." he said. He wasn't so much as smiling, but I could see a glint in his eyes. He often gets what can be described as 'a glint in his eyes', and it took me years to figure out the difference between at least a dozen different emotions that it could mean. This time, it looked suspiciously like pride, but I wasn't committing myself, until I was sure.  
  
"Thank you, Father." I replied politely.  
  
"That was an excellent manoeuvre. If only you had been so attentive, last time." he replied. Now, I wasn't about to tell him that I had spotted the Ravens' Seeker pass me just as I looked back from being distracted, was I? How stupid would I have to say to do that? I didn't reply, knowing he would continue, "At least I know you can concentrate, if you try. But if Gryffindor win the Quidditch Cup this year, you will be off the team, both Flint and I agree on that."  
  
"Yes, Father." I said, nodding. I knew well enough that it was the only logical thing to do, if we did fail.  
  
"But with a win like that, you're well in the lead." Father said, now smiling slightly. Now this time I was sure it was pride I saw in his eyes. I couldn't help but smile. They say 'those whose approval you seek the most give you the least', and it certainly applies to me. All my life, I have tried to live up to the standards he sets for me (not just to avoid punishment - if I really put my mind to open rebellion, I could stand the punishments), and he is so rarely proud of anything I achieve. He always manages to pick fault in everything I think will please him. In spite of the fact he still supports Snake-Face, I still feel the need to make him proud of me. If the Dark Lord did return (although I would do all I could to stop that from happening) I would join him if I knew it would make my father proud.  
  
"Thank you, Father." I said, really smiling - something I rarely do - so far, in my whole life I have only ever truly smiled to three people.  
  
* * *  
  
End of chapter 12 


	13. My Bloody Valentine

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's.  
  
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar ... and can any of you guess who sent Theo that card, because that scene is new in this fic.  
  
Sinical-Sarchasm: Ok, now I've decided to go back and respond to all your reviews, in order ... that's why I took so long with this chapter. 4: Glad you liked my perspective ... I only did it because I can't understand why anyone could think Draco is really evil. 5: H/D ... you mean like Hermione/Draco, right? Because the abbreviation for that is Hr/D ... H/D means Harry/Draco. 6: Erm, no ... Quentin Trimble was the author of their first DADA book ... they never to my knowledge said Quirrell's first name. 7: Thank you ... glad you liked that. 8: hehe, you'll see ... I've been plotting the werewolf thing since the beginning ... I'm glad somebody noticed. 9: you realise you just listed all my own personal favourite parts of that chapter! 10: I'm not really a great Hr/D shipper, either ... who said "she" was Hermione? Ahem, anyway ... yeah, the Erised scene was fluffy, but it had to be done ... I mean, we all wanted to know what Draco's heart's desire is, didn't we? 1: Thanks. 2: Well, I base Draco on myself ... I'm an attention seeker, and that's how I'd react if I were in his position. And those books ARE fiction, aren't they?! 3: Thanks. 4: Well, I hate Lockhart, so I had to damage him ... and I think mental torture is so much better than physical. I am working on recreating that "test", if you wanted to suggest questions for it? I'm nearly finished, then I'll publish it. 5: Worship, you say? That's new. Anyway ... yeah, Draco is the anti-hero, but it's the fact he knows it and takes pride in it that makes it almost funny, isn't it? 6: Higgs was stupid, for being so obvious ... if I was going to poison someone, they'd never know it was me. Not that I'd ever poison anyone, but it's the principle of the matter. 7: To use the spy-ball on someone, they need to cast the spying spell on that person ... it's too risky. Steal away, I'm happy to share (wouldn't mind getting credit for it, tho). 8: Theo is supposed to be the harmless-insane type ... I needed comedy in the fic, and he's the easiest way to add it. Yep, that's where I got the idea. 9: Glad you liked that ... I thought it was fitting. And who else would ever have come up with the idea of selling all those useless amulets around the school, in the real books? It sure wasn't the Hufflepuffs! 10: Well, there are no coincidences in this fic ... everything happens for a reason. But you're not the only one who tried to learn Parseltongue - I also tried it ... it's not as easy as Harry makes it look! 11: That bit about Crabbe was funny, and you're the only one to notice it, thank you! As to the "I plead the fifth" quote, I'm a brit and I knew it ... and who says that was a Muggle expression, anyway? I imagine the American witches and wizards abide by the American Constitution, as well. Hell, I imagine they had a hand in devising it! 12: Yeah, I never did understand fics where Draco outright hated his father ... I can't see it. Draco loves his father, he just doesn't understand why they have to serve Voldemort. Draco has only truly smiled to Narcissa, Lucius, and Hermione. Well, when I read Madam Pomfrey's behaviour, the words "Jewish mother" just leaped to mind, so that is how I wrote her *shrugs*. Gods, that was long. Sorry to everyone else!  
  
angelkas: Draco has only truly smiled to Narcissa, Lucius, and Hermione. Yeah, the ending of that scene was supposed to annoy Hermione.  
  
Danielle: Hi. Dobby was punishing himself, because he kept either accidentally insulting his family, or nearly telling Harry something he shouldn't ... his orders were to keep Harry away from Hogwarts, but not to tell him anything important. Don't worry, though I have all of this, and half of PoA edited (and the rest of PoA in the process of editing, so it fits in with OotP).  
  
Please, no-one take offence at Draco's idea of 'praying' ... umm ... he's kind of an Atheist, but he knows a lot about various mythologies, and he likes the goddesses better ... and I took the liberty of including an extra name to the end of the list.  
  
Chapter 13 - My Bloody Valentine  
  
I was rudely awoken by Theo yelling loudly enough to wake Crabbe and Goyle. "GET UP! IT'S FRIDAY!"  
  
I sat up, and glared at the source of the offending noise, "Shut it, Theo." I growled, "I know what bloody day it is. And why are you waking me at seven thirty in the morning? We don't need to be up till eight."  
  
"Cause I got this." he said, grinning and holding up a vial of purple liquid.  
  
"What the Hell is that?" I asked.  
  
"A bit of extra-credit work for Snape. Not that Snape knows about it, but that's what I told the nosey Raven-prefect that asked me about it." Theo said cheerfully.  
  
"So what is it?" I repeated.  
  
"Gonna slip some of this stuff to Lockhart, and he'll start tap-dancing and singing in class. No way to pin it on us, like with the Dancing Hex. I thought we could slip it to him in class today." Theo explained, with a manic grin.  
  
"Nu uh." I said, shaking my head, "Got a plan for today, already. Can you keep that till next class?"  
  
"Sure." Theo said, seeming to come down from whatever high he had been on, "What's for today, then?"  
  
"Valentine's Day." I said, smirking, "I will scare the hell out of him."  
  
"I don't want to know." Theo muttered. After a few seconds, he then asked, "Can I watch?"  
  
I snorted with badly suppressed laughter, "I don't know how you do that."  
  
"Do what?" Theo asked, he sounded genuinely confused.  
  
"Say something's bad and/or you don't want to do it, then jump right in at the deep end." I replied, glancing briefly at Daft and Dafter, before adding, "You did the same with that mirror, last year."  
  
"I did, didn't I?" Theo said, also glancing at the Stupid Squad, who hadn't noticed anything unusual, "You know, there's a Muggle drink called Coca Cola? I saw this report on it, showing that it could be used as metal-cleaning fluid, and all the black-stuff in it that could cause heart attacks and so-forth ... then I went out and bought a case of it. Delicious stuff - best thing ever to come out of the Muggle world."  
  
"You are strange." I muttered.  
  
"Yes, I am. Thank you."  
  
* * *  
  
Of course, Lockhart managed to ruin everyone's day. He had to - it's what he does. Theo and I entered the Great Hall for breakfast, and stopped dead.  
  
"I've said it before, haven't I?" Theo asked, before repeating his favourite line to say around Lockhart, "Bright colours are the devil's work."  
  
"And it doesn't come much brighter than this." I added. Crabbe and Goyle were gawping around in shocked horror, too. The entire Hall seemed to have turned pink. Bright pink. To say it was sickening would have insulted nausea itself. And Lockhart himself - well that was just the fluorescent icing on the cake. He was wearing robes that matched the colour scheme perfectly - the exact same shade of pink.  
  
We picked our way across the Hall to the Slytherin table, careful to avoid the showers of pink confetti, and sat in our usual seat. Thankfully, the confetti wasn't falling over our seats - some of the sixth-years weren't so lucky. The girls arrived minutes later. Blaise, Pansy and Milli were muttering and giggling between themselves, while Cat seemed to be in a deep sulk. I decided it was safest to talk to Cat, rather than the other girls. "Hi, Cat."  
  
"Hi, Draco. Please tell me you hate this?" she replied.  
  
"With a vengeance." I said.  
  
"Good." Cat muttered, leaning closer to Theo and I, "It's revolting, but those three think it's bloody wonderful. Milli even sent Lockhart a Valentine."  
  
Theo made a gagging noise, while I scowled, "How can anyone like this?" I asked.  
  
"I don't know." Cat admitted, "But I don't do pink." she added, shuddering.  
  
Theo was staring at the nearest shower of confetti - it was moving slowly towards us. "Incendio." he muttered, pointing his wand at the offending confetti. The stream of pink-ness burst into flames, creating a fairly spectacular display. Theo received a round of applause from most of the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables, and a fair number of Hufflepuffs and even Gryffindors, as well. Looks like Lockhart's idea of Valentine's Day spirit was not very much appreciated. Snape smirked, and I'd swear even McGonagall looked faintly amused.  
  
Lockhart somehow managed to completely ignore the incident. I then set one of the floral-arrangements on the Slytherin table on fire. It took precisely two seconds to turn into a pile of ashes. "This might be fun, after all." I muttered. I always wanted to try pyromania.  
  
Near time to leave for class, Lockhart decided to make an announcement, explaining himself. "Happy Valentine's Day!" he cheered, "And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards!" Theo sniggered evilly, at this comment, "Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all - and it doesn't end here!" I'd swear Snape turned a shade of green when Lockhart clapped his hands, and a troop of grumpy dwarfs (pun intended - that story was not Muggle in origin) stomped into the Hall, wearing gaudy fake-wings and carrying cheap tacky harps. Lockhart didn't seem to notice that the dwarfs looked almost as put-out as the teachers, as he continued his rant, "My friendly -" yeah, right, "- card-carrying cupids!" stifled sniggering could be heard from at least two houses - probably all four, "They will be roving around the school today delivering your Valentines! And the fun doesn't stop here!" oh, this is getting ridiculous ... like it wasn't already, "I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion!" yeah, sure - he'd give out the recipe for a particularly nasty poison ... and the look on his face makes that all-too-clear, "And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"  
  
"Poor Flitwick." Cat muttered, "I mean, Snape can just poison Lockhart, if he feels like it, but Flitwick is defenceless."  
  
"Theo." I said calmly, "Why did you try not to laugh when Lockhart mentioned his Valentine's cards?"  
  
"Because ..." Theo paused, looking at me, with an evil grin, "You're not the only one trying to mess with his mind. I sent him one, anonymously ... it's gotta be almost as bad as what you've been doing to him."  
  
"Eewwww." I muttered, but still smirked, "Well, I bet I can out-do yours."  
  
"How?" Theo asked.  
  
"You'll see." I said, grinning.  
  
* * *  
  
I spent all of History class, that morning, writing out a 'Valentine' for Lockhart. It was, of course, only part of my plan to drive him insane - don't get any ideas. But it had to be worded just right.  
  
Theo read it over my shoulder, and barely avoided laughing out loud in Binns' class, then as we walked down from History to Herbology, he couldn't help asking, "You're not really going to send that, are you?"  
  
"Hell, yes." I said, grinning, "Why'd you think I wrote it?"  
  
Theo shook his head sadly, "You aren't going to make it work." he said, "He'll go insane before he drives Potter up the wall. You've messed up the timing."  
  
I smirked, wondering how he managed to crack jokes like that at the least opportune moments, "You think this'll work that well?"  
  
"If he's got one ounce of sanity, this'll lose it for him." Theo said, "The last line is the key, of course."  
  
We were distracted from our conversation, by something ahead of us. It sounded like it could have been a fight, but I couldn't see - other students were blocking my view. "Crabbe. Goyle." I snapped, turning to the Two Twits, and pointing at the crowd in my way. They proceeded to shove people out of my way, and I reached the front, asking, "What's going on here?" then I saw it.  
  
Potter was scrambling frantically, to try to gather up books that had spilled all over the corridor, from his ripped school bag. One of Lockhart's dwarfs was trying to restrain him, for some reason. It looked like the beginning of a good show.  
  
"What's all this commotion?" oh, no - Prefect-the-Weasley had appeared.  
  
Potter tried to escape, but the dwarf floored him, and sat on his feet. "Right." the dwarf grunted, "Here's your singing Valentine:  
  
His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,  
  
His hair is as dark as a blackboard.  
  
I wish he were mine, he's really divine,  
  
The hero who conquered the Dark Lord."  
  
To say Potter looked mortified was the 'Understatement of the Month'. To say I thought it was hilarious was close competition for the title. I stopped laughing, however as I glanced down at the mostly-inkstained books Potter had been trying to gather. My heart stopped for a second. Please - Rhea, Hecate, Juno, Isis, Frea, Astoreth, Joanne - not that! That cursed book! Riddle's bloody diary!  
  
"Off to class, now!" Weasley-Prefect said to the now-dispersing crowd, before turning on me, "AND you, Malfoy."  
  
I regained my composure, knowing I had the full attention of half the corridor. I quickly made a grab for the diary - which, in spite of having been covered in red ink, was totally dry - and smirked, triumphantly. Crabbe and Goyle gawped at the book, like I'd swiped something of value and interest to them.  
  
"Give that back." Potter said, probably hoping the low tone of his voice sounded dangerous - as if.  
  
"Wonder what Potter's written in this." I said, looking down at the cover, and recognising the date - if this wasn't the evil diary, it was a dead-ringer for it. I did wonder what he'd written in it. Did he know who he was dealing with? Did he know what was going on? Or did he just think he'd found an old diary, and he hadn't gotten around to looking at it properly, yet? His reaction indicated that at the very least, the diary hadn't told him that I knew about it.  
  
"Hand it over, Malfoy." Prefect-Weasley ordered. Like I'd ever do anything that pompous git told me to do - even if it was something I wanted to do, I'd deliberately not, just to annoy him.  
  
"When I've had a look." I replied, trying to figure out how to get away with this book, and not have detention-happy Weasley-Prefect taking house points away from me, at the same time.  
  
Head-Boy-wannabie started to say something, but Potter decided to take matters into his own hands, "Expelliarmus!" he snapped, pointing his wand at me. The diary flew out of my hands, and Weasley-the-sidekick caught it, grinning. I was angry enough that they'd publicly beaten me at something, but more so that they were playing with fire and I was the only one who knew how hot it was going to get. I couldn't tell them that, of course, but I also didn't want to let that book go, so easily. Still, I had no real choice.  
  
While Prefect-Weasley threatened to report Potter, for using magic in the corridors, Theo arrived next to me, watching Weasley-the-sidekick hand the book back to Potter. "Weaslette's seen it." he whispered.  
  
I looked up to see the Weaslette staring wide-eyed at Potter, and more intently at the book he now held. I did the only thing I could think of at the time - it comes naturally to me, really - I insulted her, "I don't think Potter liked your Valentine much!"  
  
* * *  
  
That little incident did have a positive point, though - it gave me an idea - why not make it a singing Valentine? I cornered one of the dwarfs, and handed him the letter to Lockhart, "This is a singing Valentine for Lockhart - a friend of mine asked me to pass it on, because he didn't want anyone to know who it was from - he's a bit shy, believe it or not. Secret identity, and all." I said, to the dwarf, who glanced at the letter and leered evilly, "It's to get to him during his afternoon class, after lunch. All right?"  
  
"Sure thing." the dwarf said and he walked away, sniggering perversely.  
  
* * *  
  
At lunchtime, Theo walked up to me, "You didn't sent this, did you?" he asked, handing me a Valentine's card addressed to Theodore Nott.  
  
"I like you, Theo, but not in that way." I replied.  
  
"No, I mean like the way you sent the spoof card to Lockhart ... because this one says 'Gryffindor's red, and Ravenclaw's blue, but Slytherin's green, and that's why I like you'."  
  
"Not my style ... come to think of it, that's more your style, Theo ... whoever wrote it is probably almost as crazy as you are." I noted.  
  
"Yeah, I just wish I knew where it came from." Theo said distantly, as a group of Ravenclaw firsties walked past.  
  
* * *  
  
During said Defence class, that afternoon, I waited patiently for the dwarf to arrive. Lockhart kept glancing at me - probably wondering what I was up to, since I was wearing the evil smirk - besides, I had pulled some sort of stunt in every single one of his classes, so far, so he was probably expecting me to have something planned today. Of course, I did, but I sincerely hoped he couldn't pin this one on me.  
  
Halfway through the lesson, the door burst open and in came the dwarf I had given the letter to. I watched with amusement, as Lockhart grinned, "Ah, a Valentine greeting!" he cheered, "And who might this be for, then?" he asked.  
  
"You. Lockhart." the dwarf said, as he marched up to the teacher's desk and climbed onto said desk, to stand almost at eye-level with Lockhart.  
  
"How delightful." Lockhart said, grinning idiotically.  
  
"It's a singing Valentine." the dwarf noted.  
  
"Ah." Lockhart said, a little less enthusiastically.  
  
The dwarf cleared his throat and began reading the letter:  
  
"I see your smile sparkle like stars, shining bright,  
  
A beautiful beacon of hope and of light.  
  
From shadows I watch you, as you play a part,  
  
I know you're an actor, and I still want your heart.  
  
Come to me, brave Lockhart,  
  
That is, if you dare,  
  
I want you, I need you,  
  
Signed, Slytherin's Heir."  
  
The entire class burst into laughter, on hearing the last line. "That's priceless!" Blaise giggled.  
  
"Who'd dare send that to Lockhart?" Pansy asked, between sniggers.  
  
"The Heir of Slytherin?" suggested Theo, and then he snorted again.  
  
Lockhart looked petrified. I started clapping and the whole class joined in. The dwarf turned and bowed to me, in acceptance of the applause, before jumping off the table and departing the classroom.  
  
Lockhart remained catatonic for the rest of the class.  
  
* * *  
  
End of chapter 13 


	14. Revenge Is Sweet

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's.  
  
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar.  
  
Hkari Yume: Thank you. It seems fitting that the person who's trying to drive everyone insane should befriend the school lunatic, when you look at it that way.  
  
Bob: Thank you. Yes, Joanne was JKR. And why not the "more commonly known gods"? Well, I explained that at the beginning of that chapter.  
  
Sinical-Sarchasm: Lovegood's visiting your house? Sorry, that joke begged to be said. Anyway ... I love long reviews, so I'm glad I encouraged more. You're right, that phrase got to this country because of lame Hollywood crime films. Thanks, I'm stuck on the last few questions, and need some help ... I can make up the answers, it's thinking of egotistical Lockhart-centred questions that's the problem. I try not to offend ... everyone is entitled to their own opinion ... as long as they don't try to stop me from having/expressing my opinion, that is. That coca cola comment was based of something a friend of mine, Chris, said once. The line about Lockhart's colour-scheme ... another of my favourites, and you're the first to comment ... thank you. Oh, now there's an idea ... *adds "love-potion-incident" to her list* hehe ... you'll see what that's about, eventually. I think the Ginny-was-working-for-snake-face theory applies, there ... she was under the influence of the diary, then ... JKR is a goddess (haven't you noticed?), she doesn't screw up, everything in her books is there for a reason. The name Joanne in that list was indeed referring to JKR. Glad you liked the poem.  
  
Very short chapter - I'm sorry. Melora Maxwell - thank you for the suggestion of "exposure of inappropriate body parts", which I adapted to something slightly more ... appropriate.  
  
Chapter 14 - Revenge Is Sweet  
  
"What is that?" Theo asked, as he entered the dorm to see me stirring a potion in a small cauldron.  
  
"A personal project." I replied, adding some more sugar to it.  
  
"And it is?" Theo prompted.  
  
"Revenge."  
  
"Sure you've put enough sugar in there?" he asked sarcastically, "What're you trying to do? Rot your victim's teeth?"  
  
"That'd be good for Lockhart ... but no." I said calmly.  
  
"Then what?" Theo asked.  
  
"You'll see. But don't worry, it's not for you." I said, adding some more sugar, just for good measure.  
  
* * *  
  
I bribed Pansy (she wanted me to hang around with her for a few weeks and act like I like her ... not a bad price, for what I wanted) to offer Higgs a drink, near the end of dinner. She did this and he fell for it - not suspicious in the slightest. Poor gullible boy - too easy.  
  
I watched him carefully, from then on. "Did the house-elves forget to put sugar in this cake?" Cat asked, from across the table. Probably - I did steal the sugar, for my potion, from them.  
  
"No one else is eating it, either." Blaise noted.  
  
"Higgs is." I muttered. Cat and Blaise promptly looked at Higgs, who seemed to be enjoying the chocolate cake ... it really was bitter, but I could guess that he might not have noticed. The potion I slipped him was a Sweet-Tooth Potion - it made anything he ate taste sickly sweet - it didn't seem so bad, now, but just wait.  
  
Theo also watched Higgs, "What's with him?" he asked.  
  
"How on Earth would I know?" I asked innocently.  
  
* * *  
  
The next morning, Theo and I made it our business to get seats at breakfast where we could easily see Higgs ... actually, we were across the table from him. The poor boy hadn't noticed anything wrong, yet.  
  
Higgs helped himself to bacon and eggs, from the large platters in the middle of the table. Seconds later, so did I. I watched as he took a few bites, but then pushed away his plate, looking confused and mildly disgusted. I continued to eat, fighting not to show any signs of amusement. Theo, meanwhile, asked, "Not eating, Higgs?"  
  
"Not hungry." he muttered.  
  
"Can I have that, then?" he asked, pointing to the untouched piece of toast on Higgs' plate - the rest of the toast had already been taken from the trays.  
  
Higgs shrugged, and Theo snatched his prize, plastering it with ludicrous amounts of jam, before shoving the whole thing in his mouth at once. Higgs turned green and tried not to be sick.  
  
By lunchtime, Higgs still wasn't eating much. Everyone else commented that the chicken sandwiches were very spicy, but he didn't. I think he'd figured out that something was wrong, by now. I watched as he reached into his pocket, took out a bag of Acid Pops and ate one, frowning as it obviously didn't taste right. I tried not to laugh, but Theo kept giving me quizzical looks, as I watched Higgs starting to realise that he was being tortured.  
  
After three days, Higgs seemed desperate. He hadn't eaten a thing, as far as I'd seen, since the previous day. I happened to be passing him in the corridor, when Dumbledore also passed (coincidence ... like hell). Dumbledore seemed to notice the look of depression on Higgs' face, and offered him a Sherbet Lemon. Higgs ran away, screaming. Dumbledore gave me a look that seemed to asked 'what's wrong with him?' I put on an innocent face, that I knew he'd see through anyway, and shrugged.  
  
* * *  
  
Two more days passed, and Higgs looked distinctly ill. I sat next to him at dinner and held a small bag in front of him, "Want one?" I asked.  
  
He looked at the packet, suspiciously - they were Pepper Imps - then at me, with even more suspicion. "What on Earth makes you think I'd trust you, Malfoy?"  
  
"Just it looks like you haven't eaten anything all day, is all." I said, trying to sound like I was being sympathetic. I, myself, then took one of the Pepper Imps to prove they weren't poisoned. I hate these things, but they're one of the farthest flavours away from sweet that you can get. Cautiously, he took one.  
  
He scowled, before looking at me, and asking, "What the hell are these? They can't be Pepper Imps?"  
  
"They are." I said, smirking.  
  
"Then why do they ... wait a second - what have you done to me?" he asked, finally catching on to the situation.  
  
"Ever heard of a Sweet-Tooth Potion?" I asked.  
  
"Yeah, but ... why?"  
  
"I want to make you suffer - face it, you must be sick of sugar by now." I said, grinning. "I have the antidote, here." I added, holding up a small vial, just out of his reach, "But you'll have to earn it."  
  
Higgs looked at me, nervously. I was giving him the evil grin. He sighed, sounding defeated, "What do I have to do?"  
  
* * *  
  
Lockhart was not happy, after the next third-year Slytherin DADA class. Higgs ended up with a detention, as well as getting the antidote I had offered. And what's best is that Lockhart so can NOT pin that one on me.  
  
Higgs had to appear for the aforementioned class, wearing red-and-gold women's underwear, and nothing else. The rest of his class are still laughing at him. Public humiliation of my enemies is so much more fun than murdering them.  
  
* * *  
  
I spent the next while revising for the end-of year exams. Theo caught on, pretty quickly - he also decided it might be a bad idea to flunk his exams. The girls didn't seem to be as interested in such things, and Crabbe and Goyle couldn't revise if they wanted to.  
  
Unfortunately, Lockhart's last ounce of sanity survived. I was still working on it. It would give way, eventually.  
  
Then, at Easter-time, we were given a list of subjects to choose from, for next year.  
  
"What subjects are you taking, Draco?" Theo asked.  
  
"Not sure." I replied, "From what I've been told, Kettleburn's supposed to be a soft-touch. Then again, so's Trelawney, if you tell her everyone's going to suffer horrible deaths within the week."  
  
"Don't say that!" Cat snapped, "Divination is a highly prized skill, for those who can learn it."  
  
"To be able to learn, you need to have a teacher who knows what they're talking about." I noted, scanning the list.  
  
"Ancient Runes sounds good." Theo said, and Blaise nodded.  
  
"Divination and Arithmancy, for me. No question." Cat said simply.  
  
"Muggle Studies." I said, smirking.  
  
"Why on Earth would you want to take that?" Pansy asked.  
  
"So I'd know their weaknesses better." I answered without hesitation.  
  
"Yeah, right." Theo muttered.  
  
"I like Care of Magical Creatures." Pansy said, "Draco - I want you to take the same classes as me."  
  
I sighed, "Fine, but I'm doing Muggle Studies." I answered.  
  
"No way." Pansy said, pulling a face.  
  
"Yes way." I said childishly, "Know your enemy and know yourself, and you will be victorious." I quoted.  
  
"Yeah, but Muggle Studies won't help you, since you don't know yourself, do you?" Theo whispered, so the others didn't hear.  
  
I hate to admit it, but he was sort of right. That's why I hit him.  
  
* * *  
  
End of chapter 14 


	15. Absolutely Petrifying

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's.  
  
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar.  
  
Sinical-Sarchasm: Glad you liked Footsteps of a Stranger ... it is one of my favourite of my own one-shot fics ... notice a pattern? You seem to like all of my stuff that I like best. I always imagined Draco was bi ... I mean, he acts a bit poncy, but I can't bare to think of that gorgeous blonde as being wasted on the wrong gender ... so let him be bi, says I. Crookshanks' name would have been a funny idea for that fic ... but I was going for a deep moral lesson. Hmmm ... it's like you read my mind ... Luna and Theo, sitting in a tree, doing things we should not see ... ahem. Yeah, that is a Theo thing to do, isn't it? It took me ages to come up with a suitable revenge ... I'm glad you approved. And Higgs could have made the potion himself, yes, but he was as you say, stupid. And another of the lines I'm very proud of, and you're the first to comment (the one about Muggle Studies). Thanks, about the questions ... much appreciated.  
  
FYI - sixty Galleons equals two-hundred pounds - I checked.  
  
Chapter 15 - Absolutely Petrifying  
  
I was in the Library, on Saturday - it was the day of the Lions-Huffles Quidditch match, but I didn't feel like going. Potter would catch the Snitch - Lions would win. It was a better use of my time to catch up on revision - was I the only one in this whole school who realised exams started in a matter of weeks?  
  
Apparently not, as Clearwater - the Mudblood Ravenclaw prefect who'd stayed at school for Christmas - entered the Library, and claimed a table, as far away from me as possible. "What's the matter, Clearwater? Not watching the Quidditch match, with your boyfriend?" I asked. She glared at me angrily. I grinned back.  
  
We both resumed our studies, until someone else arrived. Hermione bolted into the Library and ran straight to the dangerous creatures section. I watched with bemusement, for a second, before standing up and going to see what she was up to.  
  
"Hey, Granger?" I said, sneaking up behind her. She jumped and turned around to glare at me, "Where's the fire?" I asked.  
  
"No fire." she said edgily, "I was looking for a book."  
  
"There's something you don't see everyday." I said sarcastically. Another glare. "What are you looking for? And why in such a hurry? Afraid you'll miss a second of your precious Potter's Quidditch game?"  
  
"No." she said irritably, "And I was looking for a book on snakes."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because I've got a theory." she replied, turning back to the books.  
  
"Just a guess." I said, reaching into the pocket of my robes and retrieving the long-forgotten page from Flourish and Blotts, "But is this what you're looking for?" I asked, holding the crumpled page in front of her.  
  
She scanned the text, eyes widening as she read. Slowly, she nodded, "This is it!" she cheered.  
  
"Question I want answered is how it's getting around the castle?" I asked, as she snatched the page from me and wrote something on it.  
  
She turned to look me in the eyes, "You're telling me you've known this all along?" she asked, her voice rising.  
  
"Shhh - we're in the Library, remember - I'm sure you recognise the place." I whispered, "Yes. I've known all along." I admitted, "I tried to help. I was responsible for stopping the attacks."  
  
"Yeah, right."  
  
"Well, not personally, but I told the people who stopped them ... and I was there, when it happened." I admitted.  
  
"I still don't believe you."  
  
"Yeah, well the trouble got flushed. I don't know how it got back, but I don't think it's safe anymore."  
  
"Flushed?" Hermione asked, "As in literally? And you said it got back?" I nodded. "You wouldn't be talking about a certain black-bound diary, would you?"  
  
"Riddle's diary. I know Potter has it." I said.  
  
She shook her head, "Been stolen. Had to be a Gryffindor who took it, too."  
  
My eyes widened and I stared at her, "I would swear, right now, but I don't think you want to hear that."  
  
"Not really."  
  
"This is very bad." I muttered.  
  
"Why so?"  
  
"Because that diary is the cause of all the attacks!" I snapped, "It's evil. And whoever's got it now doesn't know what they've got."  
  
"Are you saying that Tom Riddle is the Heir of Slytherin?" Hermione asked. I then heard something else - a hissing ... a snake.  
  
"Yes." I muttered, turning round to try and pinpoint the sound. It sounded like it was in the corridor outside the Library. "And I hear trouble."  
  
Hermione followed my gaze, "What?"  
  
"It's outside those bloody doors." I whispered.  
  
"What is?"  
  
"The monster." I said, glancing at Hermione exasperatedly, "It's right there - can't you hear a hissing noise?"  
  
"Yes, but ... oh, God." Hermione said fearfully, "You think it'll come in here?"  
  
"I wouldn't be surprised." I said nervously.  
  
Hermione looked at the page I had given her. "It kills if you look it in the eyes." she muttered to herself, "Mirrors." she then bolted across the room, to Clearwater, "Do you have a mirror?"  
  
"Yes." Clearwater answered, obviously not happy at being interrupted, "Why?"  
  
Hermione showed the page to Clearwater, saying, "This is the monster from the Chamber of Secrets. It can kill by looking you in the eyes. If you use a mirror, it'll not kill you ... a bit like the myth of Medusa."  
  
I approached the two girls, apprehensively, "It's just outside." I said to Clearwater. She blanched and started rooting through her bag, eventually taking out a small round mirror. I glanced towards the closed doors, then back to Clearwater, "Know any other way out of here?"  
  
"None that'd get us anywhere." she answered.  
  
"Better be careful, then." Hermione said, starting towards the door.  
  
"Typical bloody Gryffindor attitude. Jump in head first, and only then take a look at where you've landed." I said coldly.  
  
"It's not failed me yet." Hermione replied - it sounded like she was half-joking.  
  
I ran after her, stepping in her way, just as she reached the door, "You know it's only after Mud- er -" I glanced at Clearwater, and changed my wording, specifically for her benefit, "Muggle-borns. If I go out first, it might not attack."  
  
"And I'm the queen of Spain." Hermione said acidly.  
  
"Really? Since when?" I asked jokingly, before turning and opening the Library door - keeping my eyes on the ground, I stepped out and started walking quickly, away from the hissing noise.  
  
I heard two sets of footsteps follow me. Then one stopped, and I heard what sounded like something very solid hitting the floor - I stopped and listened - I then heard Hermione gasp in horror, and a few seconds of tense silence later, another body hit the floor. Stupid girls - honestly, what part of not looking behind them didn't they follow?  
  
Still with my eyes fixed on the stone floor, I started to walk away, again. Some insane part of my mind wanted to go back for Hermione, but I knew there was nothing I could do for her - my sense of self-preservation and sanity prevailed. However, I stopped when I heard a voice behind me, "Draco." it sounded like Weaslette - almost a singsong tone - but I wasn't sure if it was really her ... or Tom.  
  
I stood still, not turning round, "That's my name ... don't wear it out, or I'll make you buy me a new one." I said, trying to sound casual.  
  
"Turn round, Draco." she said coldly. I bit my lip and turned round, keeping my eyes on the floor. "Look at me." she snapped. I took a deep calming breath and slowly looked up, until I was looking into her eyes. They were staring back at me with a sense of power and confidence that I was sure Weaslette could never achieve on her own. She glanced to her right, but not behind her, as she hissed to the creature that was behind her. It sounded like 'turn away from the boy'. I sensed the movement, but refrained from looking. She turned back to me and said, "Look at him. Isn't he beautiful?"  
  
I looked up at the giant serpent, which seemed to be paying attention to the wall to my left. It was bright acidic green, with a plume of scarlet feathers from the top of its head. From this angle, it did look almost beautiful. Beautiful, but deadly. "Yes." I answered, in a fearful whisper.  
  
She walked towards me, carefully stepping over the bodies on the ground - I couldn't tell if they were only Petrified or really dead, "He won't hurt you, Draco." she said, watching me with a calculating stare that truly frightened me. She was a good deal shorter than me, but still managed to intimidate me, "He obeys me. You obey me, too, don't you?" I nodded nervously, backing away a few steps, out of instinct. I backed into a wall. "You do know who I am? I am Lord Voldemort." I glanced around, desperate for some way out, but there was none and I knew it. "You will do whatever I ask of you, won't you?" Again, I nodded. I wasn't about to argue with the person who told the King of Serpents who to kill. "Given the opportunity, would you join me?" I bit my lip again, but there was no way to say 'no' in this situation, so I nodded. "You will be my first new Death Eater, when I return, Draco. My powers are almost ready to take her, completely. When I do, Ginny Weasley will cease to be, and Lord Voldemort will rise again." I forced myself to smile and appear enthusiastic about this concept - I knew it was what Lord Snake-Lover wanted to see. "And you. I want you to be there, when I return. After I rise, I will take the school. It would be much easier if Dumbledore were out of the way. I want you to help me arrange that."  
  
My jaw dropped, "How am I supposed to get Dumbledore out of the way?" I asked, shocked.  
  
"Send a letter to your father." she said - I say she, because it was still Weaslette's body, even though I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was really Tom who was speaking to me, now. "Tell him about the attacks. I know it has been kept quiet, and I am actually quite surprised that you haven't told him about them already. Tell him the Heir of Slytherin has contacted you and wants Dumbledore removed from the area." she tilted her head, regarding me with an evil smile, "By any means necessary."  
  
I nodded, "I can do that." I said honestly - I could, too. I was pretty sure that I wouldn't, but I knew I could.  
  
"Good." she said, smirking - a smirk to rival my own, and that is saying something.  
  
I glanced past her at the two hopefully-only-Petrified Mudbloods, "Were you after those two, specifically?"  
  
"No. Just the Gryffindor." she replied, turning to look at them, "The plan is to make Potter come after me. He will lose, I will be restored, and we will rule the world."  
  
"'We'?" I asked.  
  
"I ... I will rule the world, but you and your family will defer only to me, so that counts pretty close to 'we', doesn't it?" she said calmly, as she turned back to me, looking me in the eyes.  
  
"Yes. That would count." I admitted, trying not to show any more signs of fear than should be expected. I was much more afraid of Tom than he would think I should have been. He would think I should like the idea of his return and only fear the idea of displeasing him (which, it had been made clear, I hadn't), while I was really terrified at the idea of his return, as well.  
  
"I like you, Draco." she said, still staring at me, "Don't disappoint me." and then she did the absolute last thing I'd ever have expected (or wanted, even if she wasn't possessed by the Dark Lord). She kissed me. On the lips. Barely touched me, but still, the fact that it happened was enough to almost petrify me, anyway.  
  
Then she turned on her heel and walked away, hissing to the Basilisk as she passed it. I think her hiss translated as 'follow me. Do not look back', but I couldn't swear to it. If that was what she'd said, it obeyed her to the letter.  
  
I stared after her, for a few minutes, before turning and running. I didn't stop until I was safely in my own room, on my own bed, with Jinx in my arms. I could hardly believe what had just happened, and I didn't particularly want to, either.  
  
* * *  
  
It didn't take long - certainly not long enough for a decent Quidditch match - until I heard signs of life from the common room. I got up and made my way out there, blending seamlessly into the crowd of excited Slytherins. "What's happened?" I asked the nearest person (who happened to be Blaise's older brother, Michael).  
  
He glanced down at me to see who'd asked, and then he said, "No idea. McGonagall marched onto the pitch, before the Lions even got in the air, and said the match was cancelled. The whole Quidditch Cup is cancelled. Didn't say why, just to go straight back to the common room, do not pass go, do not collect sixty Galleons." I snorted at the Monopoly reference (what - you think Muggles are the only ones who play Monopoly?), before moving further into the room and locating Theo.  
  
"What's up?" Theo asked, looking concerned.  
  
"Tell ya later." I said, quickly covering up the emotions that must have leaked onto my face.  
  
Then Snape arrived, shouted, "SHUT UP!" and they did. "There has been another attack. Miss Penelope Clearwater of Ravenclaw, and Miss Hermione Granger of Gryffindor have both been petrified. New rules are to be enforced, for the safety of all students. All students are expected to be in their house common rooms after six o'clock every evening. No student is to be out of his or her dormitory after that time. All students will be escorted between classes by a teacher. No student will leave class to use the bathroom, unless accompanied by a teacher. If the bathroom in the house area gets blocked - tough - you cannot leave after the curfew. All activities other than classes - yes, Flint, that includes Quidditch - are cancelled, until further notice. NO EXCEPTIONS." and with that announcement well and truly made, Snape made his exit.  
  
The entire common room immediately burst into conversation. Theo's jaw had dropped and he was staring at the door Snape had left through, with horror. "What?" I asked, waving my hand in front of Theo's face.  
  
He shook his head and looked at me, "Not allowed out after six? Not a hope in hell of sneaking off between classes? Everyone knows what Flint does to the boy's toilets, here. Shit!" I really tried not to, but you can't help but think the word 'literally' after that statement, now can you? At least I didn't say it.  
  
"Worst's yet to come." I muttered, beckoning for him to follow me, as I weaved my way through the whispering crowd of Slytherins, to our dorm room. Theo followed, and as soon as the door was closed, I started telling him exactly what had happened, when I had met the Heir.  
  
And as I told him the last part, he made a gagging noise, before saying, "I always knew he was a twisted evil git, but I hadn't realised he was perverted, too."  
  
I shrugged, "I'm obviously not going to help him. It's not like he can force me to do anything, as long as I avoid Weaslette, right?"  
  
"And the fact that he's gonna rise to power again doesn't affect that?" Theo asked sceptically.  
  
"I doubt he'll take over, with Dumbledore still around. He'll wait to make his move after I do what he's told me. I won't, so he'll not win." I said, hoping that made sense, "I hope." I added, for good measure.  
  
* * *  
  
End of chapter 15 


	16. The Face Of Evil

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's.  
  
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar.  
  
met19: Umm ... deary, this ain't an AU ... I've actually been concidering deleting Cat from this fic, because she's too Mary-Sueish for my liking (and she's really not that bad, it's just she could bee mistaken for a Mary-Sue, I mean you asked if she'd fall for Harry, and that's a Mary-Sue thing to do). I'll probably do that in the editing for book-6.  
  
Sinical-Sarchasm: *proud grin* I was proud of that scene. I'm glad you liked it. By "creepy relationships" are you referring to the kiss? Because you're the first person I remember commenting on it (and this fic did get loads of reviews the first time around) ... I had expected more comments than I got, but one person noticing is good enough for me. But I did always think the Baslilisk would be beautiful ... admittedly, the movie made it look terrible, but still ... I figure the more beautiful beasts are usually the more dangerous, so the Basilisk has to be pretty spectacular, if you can see it and live to tell about it, that is. Thanks for the questions, I'll get to work on that test, now. I might have enough to finish it, now (might)!  
  
The label on the ink bottle closely resembles the labels I used to put on my own pencil-cases and ring-binders *grins*. And no, the extra 'w' is not a miss-spelling.  
  
Chapter 16 - The Face Of Evil  
  
That very night, just as I was about to dose off, I heard a voice.  
  
"Draco. I know you're still awake. Get up." I didn't recognise the voice, but it was male, soft, almost gentle-sounding. I sat up, and looked for the source of the voice. An older boy, about sixteen, stood over me - watching me. He had black hair, and an ominous turquoise stare. I had never seen him before, but I was pretty sure I could guess who he was.  
  
"Tom?" I asked fearfully.  
  
"That's right, Draco." he said, still staring at me. I looked away first. He had to be the second person ever to stare me down - the first being my father. My gaze fell on Theo, sleeping in the next bed. Tom must have noticed this, "They can't see or hear me. I am projecting my image to your mind alone."  
  
"So now I'm seeing things and hearing voices." I muttered.  
  
Tom smirked, "Indeed." he said, seemingly amused at my comment, "I came to you, to ensure the letter you send is written correctly."  
  
"You don't trust me to do as you asked?" I inquired.  
  
"That is not the issue. I simply changed my mind, and wish to dictate the letter. I trust you would have written to your father, either way." he said - I could feel his gaze, but was too intimidated to return it - he was scaring me.  
  
"Why did you choose now, to visit me?" I asked.  
  
"Miss Weasley had to be asleep, as this excursion takes a great deal out of her, and I didn't want your friends to become aware of me, by hearing you talking to yourself." Tom answered.  
  
"I appreciate your consideration for the illusion of sanity I project." I said, smiling as I said it - it was intended as a joke.  
  
Apparently, Tom still had a sense of humour, because he also smiled. "Get up. I want to get this letter written before the girl tries to wake up. I don't want to fade out before we've finished."  
  
"As you command, my Lord." I said, nodding obediently. What choice did I have? I valued my life, and knew well enough that if he was capable of controlling Weaslette and projecting himself outside the diary, then he could easily kill me if he put his mind to it. I was not going to give him reason to do so. I quickly climbed out of bed, putting a dressing gown over my pyjamas, and walked across the dorm to the solitary desk. I took out the ink and parchment, and prepared to write whatever I was told to.  
  
"Red ink." he said quietly.  
  
I looked at the bottle I had taken out - it was green ink. I knew for a fact that I had made a point not to own red ink. "I don't have any." I answered fearfully.  
  
"Your friend has some. In the top drawer." Tom said, pointing to the top desk-drawer.  
  
I opened it and took out the bottle of red ink. It bore a label saying, 'Property of Theodore Nott. Keep your grubby pawws off this, or I'll take them off your wrists (I will dust for prints).' Cute label, but I opened to bottle, anyway.  
  
"I want this letter to be from me, effectively." Tom said coldly, "Except for the fact that I can't write in this form and the girl fights back enough that her hand shakes every time I try to make her write my own words - you saw how sloppy the writing on the wall was, didn't you?"  
  
"Yes, my Lord." I said quietly - I wasn't sure if that was what he wanted me to call him, but I thought he'd prefer too much respect to too little.  
  
"Now, write exactly what I say." he said, looking over my shoulder. "Dear Lucius Malfoy," he dictated. Nervously, I wrote those exact words. "This letter is being written by your son, on behalf of Tom Marvolo Riddle. I need your help, again, Lucius. I am sure you can arrange this. Quickly. Dumbledore must be removed from his current position, and from the vicinity of Hogwarts, as soon as possible. Thank you." as soon as I wrote the last words, Tom tried to grab the page - his hand passed right through it, and he made an angry gesture that indicated he wanted to hit the table.  
  
I set the quill down, and picked up the letter, "That it?" I asked.  
  
"Yes." Tom said sharply, "Send it now."  
  
"Now?" I asked, confused. Why so soon? What was his hurry? He'd waited fifty years, what difference did a few hours make? Unless he really didn't trust me, and wanted to make sure I actually sent it - I hoped that wasn't the reason - if that was the reason, then I was in trouble ... like I wasn't already.  
  
"Yes, right now. Call your bloody owl and send it, before I go." Tom snarled. Looks like I'd said the wrong thing - there is a limit to every evil-bastard's temper, and I had thought it was usually supposed to be shorter than his seems to be.  
  
I made a squeaking noise, before jumping up and practically running to the ventilation shaft - since there were no windows, the only owl-access to the dungeons was through these. I cast a charm - a sort-of owl-call I'd learned, just for Noctowl - the other owls around the school ignored it. It took four calls, before he heard me and swooped into the dormitory. "Hey, took you long enough." I said, as I stroked to bird's feathered head, and handed him an owl-treat for his troubles. "Here's a letter for Father. I want you to Apparate with it."  
  
Noctowl glared at me, before taking the letter, and departing as fast as he could fly.  
  
"Your bird can Apparate?" Tom asked, stunned.  
  
"Yeah. He's been charmed so he can. It's only for urgent messages. He still has to leave school grounds, and then fly through the Manor's grounds, as well. But yeah, he can Apparate." I said nervously.  
  
"Good. All the better." Tom said, smiling evilly. His hand hovered near the side of my face, as if he wanted to touch my cheek, as he said, "I will see you again, Draco. Meanwhile, I suggest you get some sleep."  
  
I nodded and watched as he disappeared. I wondered if he could watch me and not be seen. That was a scary thought. I shuddered, and returned to my bed.  
  
* * *  
  
The next morning, Professor McGonagall took the seat in the centre of the teachers' table in the Great Hall, and when everyone had arrived for breakfast, she made the announcement that Dumbledore had been suspended by the school governors.  
  
I blinked, stunned. That had been quick. Did Father have a Time-Turner I was unaware of? "He works fast." I muttered.  
  
"Huh?" Theo asked.  
  
"Tell ya later." I replied, in a whisper.  
  
And as soon as I got an opportunity to speak to him, in private, I did tell him exactly what had happened. Stunned isn't the word. Shocked didn't quite cover his reaction, either. Horrified - that might be the right word.  
  
* * *  
  
I swear the old tricks are the best. I cast a spy charm over the crime-scene outside ghost-girl's bathroom - there had to be some significance in it. Theo would sometimes spend hours, after the six-o'clock-curfew, watching the stone wall.  
  
"You like watching paint dry?" I asked, after a week of this.  
  
"It dried ages ago - I'm watching mould grow, in the bottom corner." Theo said, easily not smiling at his joke. The situation was not funny.  
  
"Do you have any ideas what to do if we actually see anything?" I asked.  
  
"Ummm." was Theo's only reply.  
  
"I mean, we can't go running to Dumbledore, this time." I continued, "I, for one, am not suicidal, therefore will not try to stop him myself. It's not like the temporary-Headmistress will believe a word from either of our mouths."  
  
"We could try to convince Weasley-girl to confess." Theo suggested, "Before she even got that far."  
  
"And the chances of that?" I asked.  
  
"Slim-to-none." Theo admitted, "But we could keep it in mind, in case the opportunity arises. How about we just hope sod-all happens?"  
  
"Snowflake in hell." I replied, giving the chances of that tactic working.  
  
"Pessimist." Theo snapped.  
  
"No, I'm a realist."  
  
* * *  
  
During one DADA class, Cat raised her hand, just as Lockhart was getting to the 'best part' of his latest role-play. "Yes, Miss Feral?" Lockhart asked, seemingly a little upset at her interruption.  
  
"I need to go to the bathroom." she said, smirking at Lockhart's annoyance.  
  
"Fine, go." Lockhart said.  
  
He was just starting to resume his little play, when Cat cleared her throat, "Um, sir?" she said, in a questioning tone.  
  
"What is it, now, Miss Feral?" Lockhart asked, exasperated.  
  
"The new rules say we can't go out on our own. You're supposed to escort me to the bathroom." Cat said curtly.  
  
Lockhart gave a melodramatic sigh, before nodding, "Very well, then." He and Cat then departed the classroom ... leaving a class full of Slytherins alone.  
  
Theo looked around, with the shifty look that means trouble, "No Lockhart. Classroom to ourselves. Cornish pixies, eat your hearts out." he muttered, standing up and pulling a box of Dungbombs out of his bag.  
  
I assisted in setting timer-charms on these Dungbombs, so that they would go off during the Weasley-twins' class, on Monday (I had made a point of finding out when their DADA classes were, so I could shift the blame easily). Cat returned with an evil grin. Lockhart was oblivious to this, and continued his depiction of how he 'dealt with' the Hartford Hag.  
  
As we left the class, I asked Cat, "What was the evil grin for?"  
  
"Found something." she said, continuing to grin.  
  
"I'm listening." I said.  
  
"Dead-Girl, who haunts that bathroom next to the writing on the wall, was killed by - and I quote - 'I pair of great big yellow eyes'." Cat said, triumphantly, "I asked her. She seemed to like being asked that, while she'll go and cry at almost anything else."  
  
"So the monster killed Myrtle." Blaise muttered, "Big deal. Doesn't help."  
  
"Does so." Cat snapped, "Means that bathroom is important. I checked over most of it, before Lockhart started shouting for me to hurry up. Stupid git. Bet he was just afraid to stand out in the corridors on his own. I didn't find anything, but I'd bet Dead-Girl un-flushed the book."  
  
"Yeah, but how does that help us?" I asked, "So we know what has already happened ... what we need to know is what's going to happen and how to stop it."  
  
"Well, that bathroom must be important. Guess the Chamber's entrance is near there." Cat said.  
  
"And I care ... how?" I asked, "It's not like we're going to play the hero. That would be SO out of character, it's not even worth thinking about."  
  
* * *  
  
That Monday - probably about the same time as the Dungbombs were going off in the DADA classroom - I was in Herbology class. I wasn't really paying much attention, but I should have. I got bitten by a Venomous Tentacula, and had to go to the Hospital Wing.  
  
Madam Pomfrey gave me an antidote potion, and left me alone. I looked around, to see the screens around the Petrified students, and grimaced. Four students and a cat. Not that I gave a damn about Creepy, Norris, or Finch-Fletchley, but the other two - Clearwater was too good for blackmailing to let go. And Hermione ... I don't know why I cared, but I wanted her back. I got up, from the bed I had been ordered to stay on, and walked silently across the room, past the screens, and sat on the edge of the bed on which Hermione lay. Petrified. I looked at her, wishing there was something useful I could do without putting myself in the line of fire, as well.  
  
"Stupid girl." I whispered, "What part of the concept of not looking behind you didn't you get - hmm?" I looked at her open, glassy eyes, with sadness. I could see fear in those eyes. "And where did you put my piece of paper? If you're not going to use it, I want it back." I looked at both her hands, and realised she literally had a death-grip on the page, in her right hand. It was next-to-impossible to see, because it was so tightly crumpled up in her grasp.  
  
I proceeded to try to remove the page from her hand. Careful not to tear it. It was not an easy task - the girl had obviously been determined not to drop it, if she had been petrified. But what use was it, not to be found until she wakes up and tells everyone, anyway?  
  
"Mr Malfoy? What do you think you're playing at?" Madam Pomfrey asked, in a stern voice.  
  
"I - I just wanted to see her." I said, nervously. I had to abandon my attempts to rescue my page. I was a little upset about that - that page was mine - I had stolen it fair and square.  
  
* * *  
  
For the next few weeks, sod-all continued to happen. And in the act of not happening, events gave me time to revise - something most people had seemed to neglect, in all the 'excitement'. Nothing happened, quite happily, until three days before the exams.  
  
McGonagall stood up, at breakfast-time, and announced, "I have good news."  
  
This was greeted by excited shouts of suggestions from all sides, including, "Dumbledore's coming back!" "You've caught Slytherin's Heir!" "We're allowed to go to the bathroom on our own, again!" and "Exams are cancelled!"  
  
McGonagall waited for the noise to simmer down, before continuing, "Professor Sprout has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for cutting at last. Tonight, we will be able to revive those people who have been Petrified. I need hardly remind you all that one of them may be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them. I am hopeful that this dreadful year will end with our catching the culprit."  
  
"Amen to that." Theo muttered, next to me.  
  
"Uh huh." I replied, distantly. I was thinking. I sincerely hoped Hermione didn't tell them who had helped her. I hoped even more that Weaslette was strong enough to last until the authorities figured out what was going on. Too many things could go wrong with the wait-for-the-victims-to-wake-up-and-tell-everyone-what-happened theory. For one, it could take too long.  
  
Cat seated herself next to me, "Watch Weasley-girl." she whispered.  
  
I did so. Weaslette had sat next to Potter, and was looking particularly nervous. The way she twisted her hands and her eyes were darting nervously reminded me of Quirrell. But she did have a fearfully determined look about her. She mumbled something to Potter, and I sincerely wished I could hear what she had said. Potter and Weasley were now paying great attention to her, as if expecting her to come out with some great revelation at any second.  
  
"I talked her into going to confess. She should spill the beans at any minute." Cat whispered to me, as I watched.  
  
Potter asked Weaslette something, and she nodded ever so slightly, took a deep breath, and ... her prefect-brother chased her away before she could tell them.  
  
"Damn." Cat and I muttered, at the exact same moment.  
  
* * *  
  
End of chapter 16 


	17. Potter Is Just Plain Lucky

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's.  
  
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar.  
  
dragonsprincess: I'm glad you like it. Cat was originally created to be me, in this fic, complete with all my faults and stuff ... but since I discovered Luna, I thought "she's me!" ... so I guess Cat's continued existence in this fic depends on what we learn about Sirius' family in books 6 & 7.  
  
Sinical-Sarchasm: The list is finished, and it's up on fanfiction.net, now. Yeah, I didn't think Tom would let Draco get off that easy, either ... that's why I then thought for a few hours on how to fix the problem, and came up with that scene. I see what you mean, about he jokes ... I hadn't noticed that before. Dusting for prints is just a figure of speech ... there is a charm that's much easier, actually. I'm glad you liked the line about Tom's temper. The pessimist/realist argument is one I have also had in real life, as well. I heard that line ("I had stolen it fair and square") somewhere else, and just had to use it, I liked it so much. The phrase "SO out of character" just seemed appropriate ... I'm glad you liked ... and what you said made perfect sense. Nice question, but the quiz is already finished.  
  
~Ravenclaw@Heart~: I'm glad you liked the valentine - I was proud of that one.  
  
dstrbd child: I do plan to write all he Harry Potter books from Draco's POV ... and I also vow to go back and edit any mistakes, as each new real book gets published, so that these work with the real books. I think Slytherin got a bad reputation, since the books are from a biasedly Gryffindor point of view, and I'm not the only person who has written an epic fic in defence of the house of cunning and ambition.  
  
This is the last chapter in this version of Chamber of Secrets. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Again, I would like to encourage those who hated it also to review - I like flames and/or constructive criticism almost as much as praise. Shameless attention seeker, I am ... just like Draco here.  
  
And I would like to thank Slytherin Psyche for giving me the name of the Durmstrang house, and she also came up with the title 'Lord Evil-Sod', for Voldemort.  
  
Chapter 17 - Potter Is Just Plain Lucky  
  
Theo and I were watching the spy-ball, while we should have been in Herbology class. Professor Sprout was too busy helping to make the antidote for the Petrification victims, to teach us. The entire Slytherin and Ravenclaw second year class were in their respective common rooms.  
  
"I am beginning to find watching mould growing fascinating, Theo." I muttered sarcastically.  
  
"I told you, it'd grow on you."  
  
"That was a terrible joke - you should be arrested for crimes against humour." I responded snidely.  
  
Theo suddenly jumped, and so did I - someone had appeared in the spy-ball. Weaslette was at the wall, and had started to add a fresh message.  
  
My eyes widened, and Theo muttered a colourful string of expletives.  
  
While Theo came up with new obscenities, that hadn't existed a minute ago, I bolted out to the common room, and tapped Cat on the shoulder, "We've got a problem, girls." I said, glancing at Blaise, who was sitting next to Cat.  
  
"That being?" Blaise asked.  
  
"Little Weasley's up to something, at the crime scene, and you two ought to check it out." I said quietly.  
  
"Check it out, how?" Cat asked.  
  
"As in try to stop her, like you did before." I growled, looking more to Blaise than Cat, at this point.  
  
"I love getting the real jobs." Cat said, in a fake-cheerful voice, as she stood up.  
  
I gave her a twisted smirk, which couldn't be mistaken for anything other than an insult to her last comment. "Sooner you get there, the better." I said, completely honestly.  
  
"There's a shortcut, behind the tapestry outside the disused torture-chamber." Blaise noted, and the two girls departed the common room. Disused torture-chamber ... better not tell Filch about that, or it'd not be so disused, anymore.  
  
* * *  
  
Again, unable to do anything useful, I watched the important events play out from a safe distance. Cat and Blaise appeared on the scene, just as Weaslette was finishing her addition to the writing on the wall - 'Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever'.  
  
"What's this?" Blaise asked.  
  
"Vandalism." Cat added.  
  
"Bad little Gryffindor." Blaise noted.  
  
"Degrading the work of our house's Heir with your own stupid ... is that a suicide note?" Cat asked, suddenly recognising the words.  
  
"By the Gods, it is." Blaise said, stunned.  
  
"What's wrong, Weasley? Potter not love you?" Cat asked, "You know, killing yourself's all well and good, but don't blame it on our house. Really, as if the Heir would kill a pureblood!" she added, in an outraged tone.  
  
I actually saw Weaslette's eyes flash red, for a second ... I'm sure of it. "Back off, children. You don't know what you're messing with." she growled.  
  
"Who're you to call us children, Weasley?" Blaise asked, "You're younger than us."  
  
"And you shouldn't be up here." Cat added.  
  
"Neither should you." Weaslette retorted.  
  
"We ought to report you, for this." Blaise said, pointing to the writing, "Filch'll throw a fit."  
  
"Won't that be fun." Cat added.  
  
"Go away." Weaslette growled, and this time the girls must have seen her eyes change, too. It only lasted for a fraction of a second, but it got the message across - Cat and Blaise looked at each other for a second, before turning and running as fast as ever the hell they could.  
  
"That's it. We're screwed." I said, as I watched Weaslette enter the ghost-girl's bathroom. I tapped the spy-ball again, and it deactivated.  
  
I stared at the clear crystal for a few seconds, before Theo said, "What now?"  
  
"We pray that sod-all happens?" I suggested.  
  
"We're screwed." Theo repeated.  
  
* * *  
  
The girls returned after about fifteen minutes. The rest of the house soon followed … and arrived Snape not long after them. "There has been another attack, and a student - Miss Virginia Weasley - has been taken into the Chamber of Secrets, by the monster." Snape announced.  
  
"Holy shit!" one of the older students exclaimed.  
  
Snape glared at the offending student, while I heard Pansy whisper fearfully, "She's a Pureblood."  
  
"The school will have to be closed." Snape continued, "All students will be sent home on the Hogwarts Express, in the morning. Until then, no one will leave their house areas, for any reason." and so he swept out of the common room, and left us all to our own devices.  
  
Half an hour later. "Which house do you think you'll get into, in Durmstrang?" Theo asked me, as we sat in the common room - he was sitting upside-down, on his back, in one of the chairs, so that his feet were on the back of the seat and his head hung over the edge where his legs were supposed to be.  
  
"Dunno." I replied, sitting imperiously in another chair, nearby, as much like a monarch on the throne as I could manage to look (and just within kicking range of his head, should I choose to take advantage of that fact). "It's not like I've really looked into it much."  
  
"I hope I'm in Schwardunmage ... it's the one that's always best in the Dark Arts course." Theo continued.  
  
"Then so do I." I said, trying not to sound distant and sad - I didn't want to lose Hogwarts - I liked the place.  
  
"Look at the bright side - proper Dark Arts classes." Theo said, trying and failing to sound cheerful.  
  
"Look at the bad side - bloody freezing climate, far from home, Karkaroff of all people is the Headmaster, and Lord Evil-Sod is going to come back, just to make things more fun." I said, dropping into sarcasm-mode with the part about 'fun'.  
  
"Yeah. Life stinks, sometimes." Theo said, shrugging it off, "Get used to it now, cause fate'll screw you over every chance it gets."  
  
"Lovely sentiments." I said sarcastically.  
  
Half of Slytherin house moped around for the rest of the evening, while the other half celebrated. I went to bed early, intent on avoiding the real world, in sleep.  
  
* * *  
  
No such luck. I found myself in an unfamiliar location, obviously underground, but it was too dark to make out anything.  
  
"Yes, this is a dream." Tom Riddle's voice said, from behind me. I spun round to see him emerge from the surrounding shadows, "But it is also real."  
  
"Meaning ...?" I asked.  
  
"Meaning that I am projecting myself into your dream." Tom answered, staring at me. I quickly looked away. "What do you think of this place?" he asked, and as he said it, the shadows lifted enough to let me see where I was. A huge underground cavern lined with giant pillars, each pillar had an equally giant stone serpent carved around it, and at the end of these was a statue of Salazar Slytherin that reached up towards a ceiling which was concealed in shadows purely by its height. This could only be one place - the Chamber of Secrets.  
  
"It's amazing." I said, in all honestly, "But how am I here?"  
  
"You're not. This is an illusion I have created in your mind as part of the dream." Tom answered calmly, "But it looks exactly like the real thing."  
  
I had turned round, now, and was facing the statue. It was then that I saw Weaslette lying on the ground. Obviously the image was completely accurate, right down to her presence in the place. "Is she ... dead?" I asked nervously.  
  
"Not yet ... soon, though." Tom answered, and I felt his hands rest on my shoulders as I stared at the motionless body of the girl.  
  
"How long?" I asked, obviously meaning how long until she died and he was resurrected.  
  
"Less than an hour." he answered. I could tell that he was looking down at me, and I didn't like it one bit. "Soon, I will be unstoppable."  
  
I continued to watch Weaslette, trying to ignore the fact that Tom was too close to me - it made me feel sick, especially considering that kiss.  
  
He let go of me and stepped back, saying, "Turn round." I did so, carefully not looking him in the eyes - I didn't want to look back at that intimidating stare if I could avoid it. Instead, I fixed my gaze on one of the carved serpents behind him. "Look at me, Draco." he said, in a deceptively soft tone. I forced myself to look at him. "You fear me?" he asked. I didn't know how to answer that one - of course I was scared of him, but did he want to know that? Would he want me to be afraid of him? I guessed it was probably obviously that I was afraid, if he had even asked the question ... besides, he seems to relish the idea of his very name being feared, so I expect he wants to be feared even by those loyal to him.  
  
"Yes." I whispered.  
  
"So you should." he replied, smirking. He reached out and took my left wrist, turning it round so my forearm was exposed, "When I return, you will have this." he said, and I looked down to see a symbol that I had only ever heard of before - it couldn't be mistaken for anything else - the shape of a skull with a serpent emerging from its mouth, branded on my arm in a jet-black tattoo - the Dark Mark.  
  
I stared at the Mark in shock, for a moment. My lip twitched, and just before the sneer of disgust appeared on my face, I caught it and forced it to pretend to be a smirk instead. "Thank you, My Lord." I whispered, knowing it was what he wanted to hear - at this rate he would return to power soon, and I was not about to alienate myself from the would-be most powerful wizard around.  
  
Tom let go of my wrist, and seemed to be startled by something, "He's early." he whispered, looking distracted - his eyes darted, unfocused, as if he was sensing something outside the dream he was projecting to me. After a moment, he turned his attention back to me, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm, "I will see you soon, Draco. It is time for my rebirth, now." and with that, he faded, quickly followed by the environment around me, and suddenly I woke.  
  
I shivered, as I looked around the dormitory, checking that it was real, this time. The first thing I did was to check my left arm ... thankfully, there was no Dark Mark there - it had just been part of the dream ... or should I call that a nightmare? Definitely a nightmare. I could guess from its abrupt ending, that Potter had found his way into the Chamber of Secrets, and he was going to get himself killed trying to rescue the girl. I lay back down, again, silently praying that something - anything - would go wrong with Tom's plans ... I didn't care that I was effectively hoping that Harry Potter would win - I just wanted Tom Riddle to lose. I slowly fell back to sleep, and this time I thankfully didn't dream at all.  
  
* * *  
  
Later that night, the whole school was summoned to the Great Hall ... apparently in such a hurry that Theo saw fit to drag me out of bed still in my pyjamas - at least I wasn't the only one - everyone in the Great Hall was wearing pyjamas, aside from Weasley-the-sidekick and his little sister ... little sister? ... Weaslette was here! Alive and well! McGonagall then stood and addressed the Hall, "I have good news for you all." she announced, for the second time that day, "As some of you can see, Miss Weasley has been returned to us, in good health. The culprit behind the attacks on the school has been apprehended and brought to justice. The school will not close, and Professor Dumbledore has returned to the position of Headmaster, at the request of eleven of the twelve school governors." I am sure she looked at me, there, and I could guess who the odd-one-out had to be. Father. "And to celebrate these events, an impromptu feast has been arranged." McGonagall continued. And with that, said feast appeared on the tables. Everyone happily tucked in.  
  
After approximately a quarter of an hour, Potter arrived. Ten minutes after that, all the victims of the Petrification - now returned to their original state - entered the Great Hall. Filch was holding his foul feline, protectively, while skulking in a corner and glaring at everyone who looked his way. Sir Nicholas was given a very warm welcome (especially for a ghost) by everyone. The Hufflepuffs were all celebrating wildly, and Finch-Fletchley made a point to apologise for suspecting Potter ... Potter, by the way, looked disgusting - he was covered in slime and dirt ... bloody heroic git (literally - he was also covered in blood). Hermione was too busy celebrating with Potter and Weasley-sidekick to even look at me ... that was the worst part of it, I think - I wanted her to at least look at me - to at least acknowledge that I had tried to help. Although I noticed Prefect-Weasley sneaking off with Clearwater - that put me off the feast, entirely. McGonagall then stood up and declared that exams were cancelled. After all the effort I had put into being the only person in the whole damned school to be ready for the exams (since Hermione was Petrified) and they cancelled them! I was one of only two students who didn't cheer at that ... take a wild guess who the other one was.  
  
If you hadn't noticed, all the suggestions for what the good news might have been that morning applied now.  
  
Of course, The-Boy-Who-Was-Bloody-Lucky and his pet Weasley won the house cup for Gryffindor ... apparently, suicidal heroism earns two-hundred house points a-piece for rescuing silly little girls who should have known better anyway. And the real icing on the cake was that Harry bloody Potter (I am taking full advantage of the fact he's really covered in blood to call him bloody without any possibility of being told I shouldn't) drove Lockhart over the edge ... I'd been working on the man all year, and Potter was the one to drive him insane, rather than me. Life is just not fair.  
  
* * *  
  
That morning, at around six, when we had all finally got back to bed, and everyone but me was already asleep, I could be found sitting sulking in the common room. I heard a snapping noise, and looked up to see Dobby standing in front of me. "What are you doing here, elf?" I growled.  
  
"Dobby is free now, sir." the elf replied, smiling too much.  
  
"How did that happen?" I asked, truly surprised.  
  
"Harry Potter helped free Dobby."  
  
"Only one of your owners can set you free, you twit." I said.  
  
"Harry Potter gave Master Lucius a book, wrapped in a sock, and Master Lucius threw the sock to Dobby." the elf answered cheerfully, holding up a stinking, slimy sock, as evidence.  
  
My eyes narrowed dangerously, "Why are you talking to me, if you're free, then?" I asked, barely restraining my anger. I didn't want to take out my frustration on Dobby - better let the homicidal rage build up until I could throw it all at Potter.  
  
"Because Dobby likes Master Draco, sir."  
  
I blinked, my anger forgotten, "You like me?" I asked, stunned.  
  
Dobby nodded, "Master Draco was Dobby's favourite master."  
  
"Father must have been really cruel, then." I said, smirking. I had thought I'd been pretty horrible to the elf ... I'd gone out of my way to be cruel to it, and now it was telling me that I was its favourite master. Dobby nodded, raised his hand to hit himself for doing so, then seemed to remember that he wasn't bound to our family, and lowered his hand again. I shook my head, smirking at the elf's compulsive behaviour - it was highly amusing. "What did he do to Potter for freeing you?" I asked, looking forward to hearing this.  
  
"Master Lucius tried to curse Harry Potter, but Dobby stopped him, sir."  
  
"Why?" I asked. "And what curse?" I added as an afterthought.  
  
"The killing curse, sir." Dobby said. I blinked again, startled that Father would do something so stupid. "But Dobby stopped him after the first word, sir." Dobby said proudly. "Dobby knew Master Draco didn't want Harry Potter hurt, and Dobby owed Harry Potter for his freedom, sir."  
  
"Good elf." I said quietly, "And please tell me Father was pissed off."  
  
"Yes, sir. Very much so, sir." Dobby answered, nodding and grinning.  
  
I looked the elf in the eyes, and smiled, "Thank you for coming to tell me this, Dobby." I said, deliberately trying to sound almost civil - I didn't own him anymore so I had no right to treat him so badly as I had before, "Good luck with your freedom."  
  
* * *  
  
Now, after all the excitement, I wasn't the only one who was glad that sod-all happened until the train home. As we were boarding the train, I apprehended Weasley-the-sidekick, "Weasley."  
  
"What do you want, Malfoy?" he snarled at me.  
  
"To buy your broken wand." I said calmly.  
  
"Why would you want to do that?" Weasley asked sceptically.  
  
"Do you need a reason? I'm offering to take that thing off you for the price of a proper wand." I replied.  
  
"Why?" Weasley repeated.  
  
"If I told you, you'd not believe me." I said.  
  
He gave me a you've-gone-mad look, "How much?"  
  
"Ten galleons." I said.  
  
"I bought it for seven. If you're trying to turn me into a charity-case -"  
  
"I am doing nothing of the sort. I just want that wand." I interrupted irritably.  
  
"You are up to something." Weasley growled.  
  
"Of course I am." I said, surprised that he bothered to mention it - it should go without saying that all Slytherins are up to something, "But it's nothing to your expense, so will you let me buy that wand - you can buy a new one for the ten Galleons I just offered you for it."  
  
He glared at me suspiciously, as if expecting to guess what I was up to simply by glaring. "All right." he finally said, taking out the broken-and-spellotaped wand. I took out ten gold coins and the exchange was made.  
  
As I climbed onto the train, Theo joined me and asked, "What do you want that thing for, that's worth ten Galleons?"  
  
"It backfired when Weasley tried to cast the slug-curse on me. I heard that it backfired when Lockhart tried to use it for an Obliviate curse. Both of those are viridus-type curses ... green light ... I wonder what might happen if a certain evil git got his hands on it." I said, with a vicious grin.  
  
"Oh, that sounds fun." Theo said, catching on to my train of thought.  
  
"It does, doesn't it?"  
  
* * *  
  
End of chapter 17  
  
End of Book 2  
  
Part three can be found at this address: http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1456762 


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